


There's Magic Between You and I

by halcyon1993



Series: Smouldering Hearts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Armpit Kink, BAMF Derek, BAMF Stiles, Bathing/Washing, Beta Scott McCall, Biting, Blood Magic, Body Worship, Breeding Kink, Butt Plugs, Car Sex, Come Eating, Come Inflation, Come as Lube, Deepthroating, Derek Gets Therapy, Derek is a Good Alpha, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Family Secrets, Felching, Fluff, Full Shift Werewolves, Gym Sex, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Jock Straps, Knotting, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Making Love, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Possessive Sex, Riding, Rimming, Scent Marking, Shower Sex, Temporary Character Death, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Underage Drinking, Urine Drinking, Watersports, Werewolf Danny Mahealani, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 260,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the disaster that was junior year, Stiles is more than ready to finish his last year of high school and move on to college. He splits his time between his studies, taking care of the pack—well and truly blossoming into his new role as the alpha's mate—and training his powers with Deaton. At the same time he learns shocking secrets about his heritage, strange things start happening around town and to the pack themselves, and he finds himself in a race to save everyone when a new evil arrives and threatens to destroy everything he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend reading [_Burn Me Until There’s Nothing Left_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1584821/chapters/3367220) before starting this, as some of the stuff here probably won’t make sense otherwise. Also, expect a lot of sex in the first half, and the story doesn't really get going until the second.
> 
> I'm acting as my own beta, so any mistakes are my own.

_\- Sunday, August 5th, 2012 -_

Stiles stares out of the window of Derek's Camaro, watching the trees blur past as the alpha in the seat next to him drives them back to Beacon Hills. The sun hangs low in the sky, signalling that the day is almost at its end. He has mixed feelings about being back in his home town.

On one hand, he's happy because he knows he'll be reunited with all of his pack again very soon, but on the other, it means the end of summer vacation and the start of senior year, tomorrow being the very first day. The back seat of the car is piled high with all of their luggage. Stiles still remembers how surprised he'd been when, seemingly out of the blue, the alpha had presented him with a pair of plane tickets and a week-long reservation in a ludicrously expensive hotel right in the middle of New York City. When he'd asked what the occasion was, Derek had just said that he thought he deserved something special before the stress of school started back up again, cutting off all further questions with a long and passionate kiss. After bidding a somewhat tearful goodbye to the rest of the pack—Isaac was particularly sullen about their departure—Derek had shepherded him right onto the plane, flying first class for the first time in his life. It had been quite an experience.

After they'd landed, Derek had taken them straight to their hotel to get situated and they'd spent the rest of the day familiarising themselves with their temporary lodgings. During the week, Derek had shown him around as much of New York as he could, the alpha knowing about it all from the years he'd lived there with Laura after the fire. It was the first time Stiles had been anywhere outside of California for longer than a day and he could hardly stop smiling and clinging to Derek the entire time.

From the nearly identical smile on the alpha's face, Stiles didn't think he minded.

The trips to Times Square, the Empire State Building and Liberty Island were just some of the highlights. Each night was spent cuddled up beneath the incredibly soft sheets in their hotel room, ordering room service and binge-watching bad television on Netflix; they'd been too tired out at the end of each day to do anything more.

Stiles is pulled out of his reminiscing when Derek speaks up next to him.

"You still want to stop off at the cemetery on the way home?" Derek asks, glancing sideways at Stiles when he pulls the Camaro to a stop at a red light. He greatly enjoyed his trip back to NYC, likening it to taking a stroll down memory lane; each new place he took Stiles came with memories from when Laura did the same for him years ago after they moved away from Beacon Hills and left the fire that took out the rest of their family behind them. He'd gotten swept up in the teen's enthusiasm, seeing the place through fresh eyes again. Even though he'd missed his pack deeply while they were there, he figures it was worth it purely just to see that constant smile back on Stiles' face. He hasn't seen the teen grin like that in what seems like forever, and it's nice to know that he can help bolster his mate's spirits so much.

Stiles lifts his head up from where he'd been leaning it on his palm, his elbow having been resting on the rim of the window. He looks over at Derek and nods, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I still want to," he confirms, planning on visiting his parents' graves while he has the time.

It's something he's done every month since his mother died, but he missed his usual visit while he was vacationing with Derek. "Can you swing by the florists first before we go? I want to get a couple of bouquets to bring with me." He's happy when Derek hums his acceptance, the alpha doing a u-turn since they'd already passed their new destination several minutes ago. When Derek pulls the car to a stop on the curb outside of the florists, he pulls the parking brake up and immediately hops out of the car, following Stiles inside the shop.

They're lucky; another half an hour and it would've already closed.

Derek trails along after his mate like a lost puppy, giving his opinion when several different bunches of flowers are shoved under his nose. He sneezes a couple of times when the pollen irritates his sensitive nostrils. In the end, he watches as Stiles ends up choosing two bouquets of white lilies. He's left dumbfounded when his mate asks him whether he wants to get anything to bring to his own family while they're there. The thought never even occurred to him, but he guesses that another visit to the Hale mausoleum is long overdue. He hasn't been there since before he and Stiles mated. After paying for Stiles' flowers and sending him outside to wait, Derek looks over the broad selection again, this time with a more critical eye. He ends up choosing something more simple for himself, just a single bouquet of yellow tulips since they were his mother's favourite. He also slips a little something extra inside the bag, hidden from view so he can bring it out again later when he and Stiles are both settled back at the house.

"What took you so long?" Stiles asks when he sees Derek finally emerge from the shop several long minutes later. He pulls away from where he leans against the side of the Camaro and raises his eyebrows as he waits for a response. His eyes flick down to the large bag in the alpha's hand, smiling kindly when he sees a few bright yellow petals peeking out of the top.

Derek looks down at the bag in his hand and shrugs, aiming to keep his additional purchase a secret for the time being.

"There were a lot to choose from," he says simply, walking around the front of his car and waiting for the traffic to clear before opening the driver's-side door and sliding in behind the wheel. He turns around and places his chosen tulips gently on the backseat, his movements especially slow as he doesn't want to ruin the beauty of them with any careless movements. He angles the bag away from the passenger seat so that Stiles cannot look inside of it and ruin the surprise. When he sees that they're both strapped in again, he starts the car back up and drives off in the direction of the cemetery.

The large gates are still open when they pull up on the curb outside of the burial ground. After coming to a stop, Derek reaches back and takes the tulips out of the bag in the backseat before exiting the car.

Because it's getting so late in the day, Stiles shivers as he walks around the Camaro and heads inside of the cemetery, the chilly evening air whipping around his face and colouring his cheeks and ears pink. He lets Derek lead the way and soon enough finds himself standing in front of his parents' graves. As he always does whenever he visits them, he feels a renewed sense of grief at the sight of the two tombstones sitting side by side in the grass, but the feeling is pushed back when Derek slips his larger hand inside of his smaller one. He sends the alpha a grateful smile and gives his hand a squeeze before releasing it to dig inside of the bag he got from the florists. Pulling out the lilies he chose earlier, he sets a bouquet on the ground in front of each of his parents' names. "Hey mom, dad... I know it's been a while," he says quietly. He's long since moved past the point where it felt strange talking to someone who's no longer around. "I'm sorry I couldn't come and see you last week, but I was kind of busy running around New York with Derek, tiring him out."

He smirks when he hears the alpha snort at his words.

"Seriously, though," he continues, crouching down so that he's kneeling in front of the graves, Derek's hand moving to rest on his shoulder, "I hope you haven't been worrying too much because things have been good. Amazing, even.

"The pack have been behaving themselves recently and nothing else has showed up to try and kill us all since Landon, which makes a nice change. I'm kinda nervous about senior year starting tomorrow, but I know I'll do fine. I was thinking about going to Finstock tomorrow and quitting lacrosse. I'm stretched pretty thin nowadays—which is totally worth it, by the way; I wouldn't give the rest of it up for anything. I hardly ever play anyway, so I figure I might as well just leave the team and spend that time doing something more worthwhile.

"I have no idea what colleges I want to apply to yet, but I've been looking. I don't want to go somewhere too far, though. I know Derek would come with me if I did, since he's like, the _best_ mate ever," Stiles looks up to his right and sends the man in question a small, affection-filled smile, "but Beacon Hills can't be left without anyone to protect it, so...I don't mind.

"This place will probably always be my home, so I'm happy to stay here with him and look after it all, even if no one knows it. My training with Deaton is going pretty well. It's hard, but I'm learning a lot and I love it. We're supposed to be doing something soon that'll help me figure out what types of magic I'm naturally more adept at... I didn't really understand any of it when he was explaining it to me, but he said it'd all make sense as he guides me through it, so...I guess I'll find out what he meant later." He laughs to himself, remembering how shocked he had been when he found out everything he would need to have down pat before he could become Derek's emissary in an official capacity. "Anyway, I think that's about everything new that's happened in the last month, so...I guess I'll see you both again in a few weeks, OK?" Stiles kisses his palm and places it on the top of both tombstones before making to stand again.

He almost stumbles on his way back to his feet because his knees have seized up from being bent for so long, but Derek's quick reflexes save him from smashing his face into the hard ground. He coughs weakly to cover his embarrassment. "Alrighty, Sourwolf, we're off to see your family next, right?"

Derek nods silently, keeping his free arm wrapped around Stiles' shoulders as he shows him the way to his family's mausoleum. The large marble structure is all the way on the other side of the cemetery and it takes them several minutes to get there, their pace leisurely. The entrance is made up of a pair of dark metal doors and the name 'Hale' is etched into the stone above.

The doors creek loudly when he pushes them open and steps inside.

Stiles follows a little apprehensively. He doesn't know whether the alpha intends for him to join him or if he should wait outside and give his mate some time alone with his family. He gets his answer when Derek turns and looks back over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at him, obviously having noticed that he's fallen behind. He smiles sheepishly and scurries after the man, his eyes taking everything in with wonder. He remembers seeing the outside of the mausoleum during a couple of his many trips to visit his mother's grave over the years, but he never got close enough to see who it belonged to.

It feels strange to be up close after so much time.

The place is huge, with dozens of plaques lining the walls. Generation after generation of Hales seem to have been laid to rest there, though there are still a fair few free spaces, two of which he knows will one day contain Derek and himself. He shakes that thought out of his head as soon as he thinks it, not liking the idea of his mate dying any time soon. He traipses after Derek as the alpha heads down to the opposite end of the room, turning and looking more closely at the names next to which his mate comes to a stop. The names of Talia, Nathan and Jeremy Hale are all written next to each other on the three plaques right in front of them. Laura is directly beneath her parents, as is Cora, surprisingly. When he lays eyes on that last name, Stiles glances over at Derek and raises an eyebrow at him in a silent question.

"Laura and I both thought that Cora died in the fire with the rest of our family, remember?" Derek explains, a wistful smile on his face. "I haven't really found the time to get her name taken down again yet."

A metal vase is screwed into the wall between his parents' names, so he puts the tulips he'd purchased earlier gently inside of it. "I haven't been here in so long...too long, really." He reaches out a hand and runs his fingers over his older sister's name. "I think the last time was when I put Laura here after you and Scott dug her up in the preserve. It's hard to believe that was only a year and a half ago now. So much has changed since then."

"Like what?" Stiles asks, wincing slightly at the reminder of how he'd interrupted Derek's grieving and made Laura's death that much harder on him with all of the wrong conclusions he had jumped to.

He watches the way the man's eyebrows are drawn together in a regretful frown with concern. He doesn't like to see his mate look so sad and knows that if he can get the man to talk about whatever it is that's running through his head, then he'll feel much better for it afterward. He's lost count of the number of times he's visited his mother's grave to pour his heart out when his life seemed to get too hard to handle. He knows the obvious things Derek must be referring to, like his alpha status, his new pack and all of the enemies they've faced and defeated, but he gets the feeling that there's more to it than that.

When the alpha finally opens his mouth, Stiles knows he's right.

Derek looks over at his mate disconsolately. His mouth suddenly feels dry and he has to swallow before he can answer, his throat seeming to grow tight, making the action feel more difficult than it should be. "I know that my parents loved me and would've done anything for me," Derek begins, turning back to look at his family's names, taking back his hand and letting his arm drop down to his side. "I've spent years walking around with the guilt from the fire circling over my head, thinking that they must all hate me now, wherever they are. I pushed everybody away because I thought they'd get hurt or end up dying if they got close to me. It took me so damn long to start letting go of that and to begin realising that I was just being stupid, that of course my parents would still love me. Then I killed Peter. Twice." He swallows difficultly. "I can't help wondering whether my mom would've done things differently, whether she would've tried to find a way to help him instead of just killing him like I did..."

Taking in the way Derek's eyes are beginning to shine with unshed tears, Stiles steps up behind the alpha and wraps his arms around his body, one hand coming to rest on the man's stomach and the other over his heart. He can feel the way Derek's pulse races beneath his palm as he tucks his face in close to the alpha's strong neck.

"You can't think like that," he whispers, keeping his voice low since the atmosphere of the room seems so fragile.

"I don't know what happens when you die, whether there's a heaven or a hell or if there's even anything at all. But what I _do_ know is that if given the choice between Peter and you, your parents would choose you in a heartbeat. You're their son and you always will be. Plus, they would've seen the way Peter was tormenting us all and while I didn't know them, from what you've told me about them, I think they would've done what they had to in order to stop him as well. They'd be so proud of the man you've become, just like I am."

He presses his lips against the warm skin of Derek's neck and gives his body a squeeze before stepping back again and linking their hands instead. He watches as the alpha pulls himself back together before continuing to speak.

"Mom, dad...this is Stiles," Derek says, his voice slightly hoarse. "You've probably already figured it out by now, but he's my mate, and he's the best one I could ever ask for. I know you'd love him just as much as I do. I wake up every morning and I can't believe that he's still there next to me. I finally understand the way you two used to look at each other... He's actually pretty much the only reason we've all made it as far as we have. Without him, all of us would've probably died a thousand times over by now." He chuckles to himself. "He definitely keeps me on my toes and I know you'd have enjoyed teasing him, Laura, especially when you found out that he gives just as good as he gets."

While it's not the first time Stiles has ever heard Derek talk about his family, it _is_ the first time the man has spoken of them so openly. The display of emotion on the alpha's face is a far cry from the closed off demeanour he displayed when they first met. Although he knows they both still have a long way to go, Stiles is content in the knowledge that they've already come a fair distance in the few months they've been together.

"Anyway..." Derek trails off, scanning is eyes across the names of his deceased family one last time.

"My pack is in a good place right now. Everyone is getting along with each other for once and even though they make me want to pull my hair out sometimes, it feels so rewarding to look after them all." He leaves out that part of the reason he works so hard at being a good alpha for all of them is because he feels he still has a lot to make for from his past mistakes. He's confided this thought in Stiles before, late one night, and the teen had immediately told him that he shouldn't think like that. He just can't help it. It's difficult to change your thought processes after years of them being a constant. Still, he's trying, and he figures that's enough for the time being. "I don't know what else there is to say now, really, so...I guess I'll just finish this off by saying that I love and miss you all so much every day, and that I hope you're happy wherever you are." He neatens up the tulips in the vase on the wall before smiling sadly and walking out of the mausoleum, not even pausing to see whether or not Stiles is following him.

He breathes deeply when he gets back outside, just taking in the cool evening air and trying to let all of his anxieties go before he faces the rest of his pack again. He doesn't want to worry them.

After watching Derek leave, Stiles stays where he stands for a few seconds before turning back to look at the alpha's family. "Don't worry about him. I promise I'll do my best to make him see just how amazing he is..." he says earnestly before finally joining Derek outside.

* * *

When the Camaro pulls up to their house, Derek and Stiles are unsurprised to find that everybody else's vehicles are already parked there. The rest of the pack were all informed of when they'd be returning, and Derek is apprehensive as he gets out of his own car, dreading that the teenagers will have planned a surprise homecoming party or something. He wouldn't put it past Lydia and Erica, given what they'd done to him on his birthday months earlier. He walks up the front steps and turns the handle on the door, pushing it open slowly and expecting to hear a bunch of screams as soon as he walks into the foyer. He's relieved when nothing of the sort happens. Keeping his ears open, he hears the sounds of the television coming from the direction of the living room and some hushed talking from the kitchen. He only steps fully into the house when Stiles appears behind him and pushes him gently, the teen's arms laden down with several of their heavy bags from the backseat.

He takes the bags from his mate quickly before he can drop them.

Setting everything down beside the stairs, he heads back out to the car and brings the rest of the bags inside before shutting the door behind himself and following Stiles through to the living room.

As soon as Stiles steps around the corner, he almost goes flying as something collides with him unexpectedly, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He stumbles back a couple of steps before finding his balance again and realising that the thing that attacked him was just Isaac, the beta's arms wrapped tightly around his torso and his face buried in his neck. He smiles fondly and reciprocates the hug, looking over the taller teen's shoulder and seeing that most of the rest of the pack are still sat on all of the sofas, watching them. Scott and Allison come through from the kitchen soon afterward, completing the group.

Once another few seconds have passed, Stiles tries to pull back but finds he's unable to break Isaac's hold. "Missed me, I take it?" he asks quietly, patting the beta's back a couple more times and sharing a knowing look with Danny. He feels Isaac nod into his shoulder and chuckles to himself, his heart seeming to grow in his chest with the renewed realisation that he's obviously important to the rest of the pack.

It feels good.

Eventually, Stiles ends up getting passed around the entirety of the pack in hug after hug, though when he gets to Jackson, the pretentious beta just nods in his direction. Their relationship has grown into something much more amiable since his dad died, but he still didn't expect anything more.

Derek's greeting is a little less enthusiastic, all of the betas sensing his more withdrawn attitude and giving him the space they think he needs. They still look confused, though, so when the alpha doesn't reemerge after finishing taking all of his and Stiles' bags upstairs, all eyes turn at the teen, looking for answers. Stiles sighs and lets Isaac drag him over to sit on the sofa, allowing the beta to cuddle up to his side like an affectionate puppy. The tactility of all of the wolves still seems a little strange to him sometimes, especially since he was never used to being touched so much before all of the craziness started, but he just rolls with it, knowing they need it and finding he rather enjoys it himself. "We stopped by the cemetery on our way back here and saw our families. He hadn't been back since he laid Laura to rest, so it brought back a lot of memories," he explains, pleased when looks of sympathy and understanding appear on everyone's faces. "Just give him some time, guys."

"So, how was New York?" Allison asks from her seat between Scott and Kira.

The former is playing idly with her hair and the latter has her legs thrown across both of the others' laps. "I was super jealous when I found out Derek was taking you." Even with all of the examples she's been witness to in the past, she still remembers how surprised she'd been at the display of generosity and consideration coming from the alpha.

She wishes the whole pack could have gone, and while she missed Derek and Stiles deeply while they were away, she understands the need to be alone together every now and then.

Looking inside of himself and latching onto his connection to Derek, Stiles tries to gauge how the alpha is feeling in that moment. Relief surges through him when he finds that the older man appears to be relatively calm—no doubt having settled down to read a book or something—which makes him feel OK staying downstairs with the rest of the pack for a little while. He knows that Derek sometimes needs space even from him and respects those needs completely.

Turning back to Allison, he smiles when he sees the way everybody appears to be relaxed into each other, Isaac snuffling adorably even further into his shoulder. "New York was _amazing_!" he gushes, his mind instantly wandering back to the many new memories he has from the trip, which he knows he'll treasure forever. "I practically dragged Derek all over the city. It was nice getting a small glimpse of his past, even if he didn't say too much about it." He fields more questions from everyone in the room about all aspects of the trip, from the hotel room to all of the places he'd been and seen. Before he knows it, a couple of hours have passed and it's nearing nine o'clock in the evening. He gasps when he looks at the clock. "Whoa, it's getting late! All of you should really start heading home now," he instructs, extricating himself from Isaac's hold—he feels a little bad when the beta lets out a displeased whine at the loss of contact, but he knows it's for the best. He raises a pointed eyebrow when he sees that nobody has moved an inch. "Don't make me go all 'alpha-mate' on you."

The fake threat does what he intended and finally gets everybody moving. Soon enough, Stiles is standing by the front door and bidding farewell to all of them as they leave. Isaac sneaks in another hug before following Danny out of the door.

Shaking his head in exasperation, he wanders throughout the rest of the house to see whether the betas have done their job of keeping the place looking respectable while he and Derek were gone. He's happy to find that they've been successful for the most part, the only mess being the remnants of that night's snack foods on the coffee table in the living room.

It doesn't take him long to tidy it all up, putting all of the wrappers in the dustbin and loading up the dishwasher to run overnight.

After turning off all of the lights and double-checking that all of the doors and windows are locked, he heads upstairs to his and Derek's bedroom. Like he'd thought earlier, he finds the alpha leaning against the headboard, a book open in his lap. His mate wears nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, and he finds the sight of the wolf's bare feet peaking out from the ends of the sweats to be surprisingly nice. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he notices that Derek appears to have packed away all of their clothes and toiletries already, ever the helpful mate that he is.

The lamps on the bedside tables are the only light sources in the room.

Derek looks up when the bedroom door opens and Stiles steps inside. He stops reading—he's halfway through the second book in the _Hunger Games_ series, having found he enjoyed the first instalment after Stiles forced him to check it out—and hops up off of the bed. "Hey," he greets, stepping up behind the teen as he rifles through the dresser on the other side of the room. "Has everyone else gone home?"

Tucking his chin over Stiles' shoulder, he rocks them gently from side to side, his hands resting on his mate's hips.

His fingers closing around the fresh pair of underwear he had been looking for, Stiles leans back into Derek's hold and closes his eyes in contentment. "Yeah... I sent them all home a few minutes ago when I realised how late it was getting," he explains, letting himself be swayed. He's not surprised that Derek appears to need close contact in that moment. It's happened several times whenever the alpha has relived sad memories, where he'll need space and then become especially clingy when they come back together. He loves it, always happy to be in close proximity to his mate. A smile slips onto his face when he feels Derek place a small kiss on the side of his neck, the man's beard rasping against the sensitive skin and sending shivers down his spine. "You feeling better now?"

Humming his assent into Stiles' neck, Derek moves his hands and wraps his arms around the teen's chest, pulling him back so that every part of their bodies touch from head to toe. He keeps them both standing there for several minutes, just basking in Stiles' heady scent and the warmth soaking from his mate's body into his own.

"As nice as this is, I really, _really_ need to pee," Stiles whines eventually.

He reluctantly pulls out of Derek's comforting embrace and heads through to the bathroom—clean pair of underwear still in hand and feeling the alpha's eyes on him the whole time—closing the door quietly behind himself. He figures he might as well just get ready to go to bed while he's there, seeing as he has to get up early the next morning to make sure he has everything ready for the first day of senior year. After using the toilet, he brushes his teeth at the sink and thinks over everything that was said at the cemetery earlier. He knows there's still a long way to go until both of them get over all of their issues and hang-ups, but it feels good to know they're still making progress all the same. He can't wait for the day when he can witness Derek talk about his family without seeing guilt and torment storming behind the alpha's eyes. Thinking about his mate reminds him that the man offered to drive him to and from school the next day. He can't wait, always getting a little kick out of the other students' reactions when they see Derek.

It feels good to be the one they're jealous of for once, after years of being made to feel invisible by the vast majority of them. When he switches off the bathroom light and steps back out into his and Derek's bedroom, he stops in the doorframe when he sees that the alpha is stood next to the bed, an arm hidden behind his back and a nervous expression on his bearded face.

"What's up?" he asks apprehensively, hoping that whatever Derek has to tell him isn't bad. He's still on the lookout at every turn for anything that could bring an end to the months of bliss they've been experiencing. The constant vigilance got very exhausting very quickly.

Stiles' confusion increases when Derek just beckons him closer.

It's only when they're almost stood face to face he finally picks up on the fact that the alpha's ears are tinted that adorable pink colour they get whenever the man feels embarrassed or has done or is about to do something sweet. That had been the biggest surprise about getting into a relationship with Derek, the fact that the alpha is actually a very affectionate and romantic person. Even though he knew the man loved him, he still assumed going in that his new mate would end up being rather closed off and reserved. Those assumptions couldn't have been further from the truth, though, and he's thankful that they were. Derek seems to go out of his way to make him feel cherished everyday they've been together thus far.

Noticing how concerned Stiles appears to be, Derek clears his throat before hastening to assure the teen that nothing is wrong. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad!" he blurts out, feeling his face heat up even further when he realises how awkward he sounds. "I just, uh...wanted to give you something as a sort of, uh, thank you for, y'know, being there..."

Stiles' mouth hangs open in shock when Derek brings his hidden arm out from behind his back and holds up a single rose. The petals are all perfect and a vibrant red. He notices that it's held delicately within a small glass vase, which he recognises after a couple of seconds as the one usually kept on a windowsill in the laundry room. He wonders if Derek went and retrieved it while he was in the bathroom. When he sees that the alpha is beginning to look even more nervous and unsure of himself by the second, Stiles realises that he must have stayed silent for too long. "Aww, Sourwolf..." he says simply, taking the flower and inspecting it more closely. A small smile forms on his lips when the scent of it reaches his nose before he puts the vase gently on his nightstand and turns back to his blushing mate. "Is this why you took so long in the florists?"

Clearing his throat, Derek scratches at the back of his head and keeps his eyes averted as he answers. "Uh, yeah... I couldn't decide whether I should actually get it or not until the saleswoman talked me into it," he explains, only meeting Stiles' gaze again when he feels one of the teen's hands cup his cheek. His whole body freezes and he stares right back into his mate's hypnotising, cinnamon-coloured eyes.

"Do you...do you like it?" Derek asks, cringing internally when he hears how embarrassingly quiet and apprehensive his voice sounds in the silence of the room.

"Are you kidding?" Stiles says, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around Derek's neck, his elbows resting on the alpha's strong shoulders. He tips his head forward until their foreheads rest against each other, feeling Derek's warm breath puff across his face when he exhales sharply. "I love it. First you take me on a week-long trip to New York, which was amazing in and of itself, and now _this_? You'll never stop surprising me, will you?" He leans forward just a little bit more until their lips touch chastely before pulling away again and looking into Derek's beautiful, ever-changing hazel eyes.

His lips quirk upwards into a loving smile when he sees how endearingly pleased with himself the alpha looks. "You ready for bed?" he enquires, beginning to feel the weariness their flight has left him with. He knows he'll need a long night's sleep so that he doesn't end up dead on his feet the next day.

Derek watches as Stiles walks around him and climbs onto the bed, stretching his slender body out enticingly across the mattress. He snaps himself out of his staring when he catches the way the teen is quirking an eyebrow at him questioningly, a knowing smirk on his lips. Rolling his eyes, he walks around to the other side of the bed and joins his mate. Setting the book he'd been reading earlier on his nightstand, he pulls Stiles back so that they're snuggled up close together, feeling and hearing the way the teen lets out a small, pleased sigh when his arms wrap around his bare torso and their legs tangle together. He grunts quietly when Stiles shifts in his hold, wiggling slightly and inadvertently rubbing his ass back against his crotch. The action causes his cock to twitch in his sweatpants and ignites a fire in his gut. Deciding to chase after it, he humps his hips forward slightly and places a series of kisses across Stiles' shoulder blade until he reaches his neck. "You still tired...?" he enquires deeply, pausing his body's movements when the teen in his arms doesn't respond immediately, afraid he's misread the situation.

Stiles turns over until he's facing Derek, still bracketed in by the alpha's muscular arms.

While he does still feel distinctly worn out from their trip and knows he should probably say 'yes', he can never resist his mate when the man looks like he does in that moment, his pupils blown and his cheeks tinged red with arousal.

If he's honest with himself, he still has trouble keeping his mind away from any naughty thoughts even when Derek looks completely normal. He always thinks his mate looks sexy as hell, strangely—and a little frighteningly, really—even when the man is covered in dirt and blood from fighting, his clothes torn to shreds and his skin flushed and sweaty. Derek is never unattractive. "I suppose I could be persuaded to stay up for a little while longer..." he whispers teasingly, grinning at the way his words cause Derek's eyes to begin glowing their alpha red colour.

Surging forward, Derek rolls Stiles onto his back and moves to kneel between the teen's long legs. He bends down and smashes their lips together in a fierce kiss, immediately shoving his tongue inside the inviting cavern of his mate's mouth, running their tongues together and drinking in the taste of him. It's slightly overpowered by the taste of toothpaste from when Stiles brushed his teeth just a few minutes before, but the pure essence of the teen is still there, just beneath the mint.

He grinds his hips down against Stiles', rubbing their hardening cocks against each other through the fabric of their underwear and sweatpants maddeningly. The teen moans into his mouth at this and he can't resist repeating the action a couple of times with increased force, just to get more of those intoxicating sounds.

Threading his fingers in Derek's hair, Stiles bucks up against the alpha's body, chasing what little stimulation he can get on his aching cock.

He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of being underneath his mate, feeling the weight of his muscular body atop his own as he presses him down into the mattress. It fast became one of his favourite things about sex with Derek after the first time he helped the man shift all the way and has been a repeated occurrence ever since. Tugging lightly on the dark strands of the alpha's hair, he angles his head slightly to the side so that their mouths line up together that little bit better. He sucks on Derek's tongue as it invades his mouth, his eyes clenched shut in pleasure as his mate grinds down against his crotch and he feels the man's impressive erection slide along his own. It's been far too long since he's had Derek's cock and he plans on remedying that as soon as possible.

His ass twitches in anticipation of having that hard length buried inside of it again.

Derek breaks the kiss and slithers backward on the bed until he's sat on his heels between Stiles' spread legs. He curls his fingers beneath the waistband of the teen's boxer-briefs and pulls them down slowly, watching as each new inch of pale skin is revealed, Stiles' cock slapping up against his stomach when it's finally released. The way his mate just lies there passively makes the wolf in his head howl with want. He slides the offending underwear off of Stiles' legs and tosses them across the room, not caring at all where they land as he bends down until the teen's hard cock is right in front of his nose. The scent of the pre-come that bubbles up from Stiles' slit fills his nostrils, and he can't resist swiping his tongue out to sample it, immediately sucking the tip into his mouth when it blossoms across his taste buds. Flicking his eyes up to Stiles' face to gauge his reaction, he begins bobbing his head up and down and sees that the teen has his head thrown back, his mouth open in a silent moan. When he feels his mate try and buck his hips up, impatient, his fits his hands around the teen's narrow, bony hips and holds him in place.

After he hears a whine of disappointment, slender fingers tangle in his hair again, pushing him down further. He goes willingly, not stopping even when the head of his mate's cock bumps against the back of his throat. He just swallows around the hardness and takes Stiles deeper until his nose is buried in the curls at the base.

When Derek pulls off of his cock, Stiles plants his feet flat on the mattress, his knees bent, and tries again to unsuccessfully buck his hips up to chase the alpha's mouth.

His toes curl in pleasure when his mate instead lowers his head and begins sucking on his balls instead. Forcing his eyes open with great difficulty, he looks down the long line of his body and sees the dark strands of Derek's hair peeking out from between his legs. The man's red eyes are just visible, each one glowing and framing his cock, which glistens with drying saliva. Even though his mouth is occupied, Stiles can still see Derek's smirk clearly in his eyes.

His wolf obviously enjoys teasing him.

Wanting to move things along a bit further, Derek pulls away and runs his tongue along the index finger of his right hand before circling the tip around Stiles' hole. When he feels the tight muscle relax under his careful touches, he slips his finger inside, right up to the last knuckle. Before Stiles can react to this new development, he takes his cock back in his mouth and sucks hard, curling his finger up and rubbing across the teen's prostate forcefully until he's a quivering mess beneath him. He keeps up his assault until he sees the telltale signs that Stiles is close, redoubling his efforts when the teen's fingers tangle in his hair again, pulling harshly in his pleasure. When the first spurt of come floods his mouth, he moans appreciatively and sucks with more enthusiasm, trying to wangle as much of the stuff out of the teen as he can. He rubs his finger constantly back and forth across Stiles' prostate to help things along. He keeps going until he hears his mate release a slightly pained whine, his orgasm finished and his cock over-sensitive.

Acquiescing when Stiles tries to push him away, Derek gives one last lick to the head of the teen's cock to collect the last of his come before sitting back and taking in the sight of him. Stiles is laid out on the bed, his skin flushed red and shining with sweat. The teen looks positively delectable. He gets up on his knees and removes his sweatpants at lightning speed before flopping down on the mattress next to Stiles.

Turning onto his back, Derek beckons the teen over with a curl of his index finger.

It takes Stiles a second to get what Derek is asking him to do, having gotten distracted for a second by the sight of the alpha's cock standing up straight and proud between his legs. Finally finding his brain again, he clambers over and swings his legs around until he's straddling Derek's chest, the man's cock ending up right beneath his face. He rests his hands on his wolf's strong, hair-dusted thighs and spends a second focusing on the way they flex beneath his palms. They've never sixty-nine'd before, so this is a new experience and it takes a while for him to find his footing.

He feels Derek take each of his ass cheeks in his large hands and pushes back against them when they squeeze repeatedly before spreading him wide, exposing his eager hole. The first lick of Derek's tongue against his tight pucker causes him to hiss out a breath between his teeth, the sensation unexpected.

The rumbling coming from Derek's chest increases in volume as he licks across Stiles' ass a couple more times, savouring the taste of it. He points his tongue and prods at the tight ring, trying to coax it into relaxing and unfurling slightly, allowing him entrance. Stiles' warm breath blows across his cock as the teen pants harshly, obviously enjoying what he's doing. After a few more careful licks, swirling his tongue around the rim soothingly, he finds that he's finally able to get the very tip of his tongue inside. His mate's ass feels burning hot around him, making him want to get as deep as he can. Claws begin to materialise from his nails, poking into the paleness of Stiles' cheeks. It takes some effort, but he makes sure they don't go too far and accidentally pierce the skin. He's pleased when he finds he's able to keep his fangs at bay. Now that his tongue is actually inside of Stiles' ass, it's easier for him to move it further, dipping it in before withdrawing again in rapid succession so that he's essentially fucking his mate with it, a little preview for what is still to come.

When he feels something brush across his chest, he pauses and looks down to find out what it is.

His eyes are greeted with the sight of Stiles' cock fully hard again, already leaking. His own cock throbs between his legs and he copies what Stiles had tried to do earlier and bucks his hips up toward the teen's face with his feet planted flat against the sheets, his abdominal muscles contracting with the movement.

Having been lost in the feel of Derek's tongue in his ass, the pain from the alpha's claws only enhancing the pleasure of it all, Stiles is confused for a second when he finds himself tilted forward and something brushes across his cheek. It leaves a hot, wet trail in its wake. Opening his eyes again, he finds that Derek's cock is now right in front of his face, the alpha using his powerful legs to hold his hips up off the bed, bringing his rigid erection closer.

Stiles realises that the fluid on his cheek is his mate's pre-come, which still bubbles continuously up from the slit to run down the shaft and get stuck in the thick curls at the base.

Getting the message, he moves his right hand off of Derek's thigh and uses it to stabilise the man's cock before opening his mouth wide and closing his lips around the head. It takes a lot of work to get his mouth even halfway down the shaft—the man is so big it seems impossible that he'll be able to take him all the way. Still, he gives himself points for trying and knows that he won't ever stop wanting to feel Derek deep in his throat. He figures that if he just keeps up his attempts, he'll reach his goal eventually with enough practice.

Luckily, he's never had much of a gag reflex, which is an automatic step in the right direction.

Every time Derek feels Stiles pull his mouth off of his cock, he thrusts his tongue as deep as he can inside of his mate's ass, which pushes the teen forward and gets his mouth back where he wants it. It's a game of back and forth, one he knows he can keep playing forever and never get bored of, but the thought of once more sinking his cock inside of the tight ass in front of his face urges him to cut it short.

Before Stiles knows what's happened, he finds himself on his back again with Derek straddling his torso instead, almost in a reversal of their previous positions. The only thing that's different is that the alpha is facing him instead, slightly further back. He watches as his mate leans over to side and fumbles the top drawer of his nightstand open, retrieving the lube they keep there. When the tube is subsequently dropped down on the centre of his chest, he frowns in confusion after it lands with a wet slap against his skin. Looking closer, he sees that Derek's claws have punctured it in his enthusiasm, the alpha either too turned on to be able to retract them again or simply unwilling to do so. Shrugging, he picks the lube up and coats three of his fingers with the stuff before awkwardly reaching down and prodding at his hole.

The muscle is already a little loose and wet from Derek's earlier fingering and rimming.

Derek turns his head and watches Stiles work, smirking when he sees him sink two fingers inside his own ass right off the bat. The teen is obviously eager to get to the main event, a feeling that he definitely shares. Reaching up and wrapping his hands around the top of the headboard, he scoots forward slightly until the tip of his cock bumps against Stiles' plump lips, seeking entrance.

A disapproving growl builds in his chest when the teen tries to wrap his other hand around the shaft, picking his head up off the pillows to try and take him deep. He wants to be in control of this part of things by himself. Arching a thick eyebrow down at Stiles, he doesn't stop growling until the teen complies, his free hand flopping down uselessly by his side again. Satisfied, he pushes forward until the tip of his cock slips past Stiles' lips, tilting his head back and groaning when that talented tongue alternates between sliding beneath his foreskin and running over the bundle of nerves under the head and swiping across the slit, sending shivers down his spine. "How many?" he grunts out between his teeth, looking down with hooded eyes at the erotic sight of his mate's mouth wrapped around his substantial girth.

His mouth otherwise occupied, Stiles holds up two fingers on his free hand to answer Derek's question. He quickly gets the message when the alpha's expression gets a little more impatient and adds a third slick digit in alongside the two already scissoring inside his hole.

It's a stretch, but he rather likes the burn of it all.

Stiles whines when Derek pulls his hips back, taking his cock with him. When he tries to chase after it, another growl from his wolf holds him in place, and he's forced to look pleadingly up at his mate's shifted face. He tracks his eyes up the alpha's torso on his way to meet the man's own. The light from the bedside lamp casts shadows over Derek's body, making his flexing muscles even more apparent. All their dips and curves are bathed in dark, standing out against pale skin. The hair leading down from the alpha's navel into the curls of his pubic hair is disturbed as Stiles' harsh breaths blow through them. The bottom half of Derek's face is completely obscured by a shadow cast by his right arm, but Stiles can just about make out the glint of white fangs.

"Love having your lips wrapped around me, don't you?" Derek chuckles, relenting in his teasing and returning to his previous position, allowing Stiles to get his wicked mouth on him again. It doesn't compare to being deep inside the teen's ass—it's not really a fair comparison, since _nothing_ could measure up to that—but it still feels pretty damn good. It's always a suitable substitute if they don't have the time to go all the way.

Derek's balls drag heavily across Stiles' chest and gather the lube that dries there, wetting the sack.

When he finds he can squeeze his pinky finger inside his hole without much discomfort, Stiles decides that he's finally ready and withdraws his hand, flopping his head back down on the pillow and reluctantly releasing Derek's cock from his mouth.

"OK, I'm ready," he gasps, scooping up the remaining lube on his chest and slathering it across the alpha's shaft. "Just get inside me already." He smirks when Derek rumbles approvingly before climbing backward until he's once again situated between his spread legs. Reaching up his hands, he wraps them around the backs of his knees and pulls his legs up so that he's almost bending himself in half, putting his stretched prepped entrance on display in hopes of enticing Derek to just shove inside his body with force.

The sight of Stiles' hole gaping up at him snaps something in Derek's head.

He immediately rushes forward, sheathing himself completely in one smooth thrust, his balls slapping audibly against the teen's smooth cheeks. He sees Stiles wince slightly from being taken so suddenly and whines quietly in response, upset at having potentially hurt his mate. In an effort to soothe, he nuzzles his nose across the teen's jaw and down across his neck, leaving a series of light kisses in his wake. As it's been a while since they've made love, he gets lost momentarily as he takes in just how tight Stiles is around him. The feeling of the narrow channel as it twitches around his cock and grows accustomed to his girth is something he doesn't think will ever get old. Eventually, he feels hands on the back of his head and looks up, groaning gratefully when Stiles nods and gives him permission to finally move. Withdrawing slowly, he pulls out until just the head of his cock remains inside before pushing back in. He keeps his movements unhurried. Even though things started off a little rushed, he wants to make the main event feel as amazing and full of love and affection as he can make it.

When Derek finally moves, Stiles closes his eyes in bliss.

Threading his fingers through his wolf's hair, Stiles pulls his face up so that their lips meet in a messy kiss. He runs his tongue along the sharp points of Derek's fangs before dipping fully inside his mouth, moaning quietly when he finds he can still taste a bit of his own come on the alpha's tongue.

After a particularly well-aimed thrust causes the head of Derek's cock to brush right up against his prostate, he whimpers into the kiss and tears his mouth away to gasp for air, his lungs protesting their lack of oxygen. He didn't think this move through fully and is surprised when Derek immediately latches onto his neck, the long, pale column bared in a way that he now realises must seem submissive to the wolf. He guesses that's just his natural inclination now. Strangely—although perhaps it's really not strange at all—he finds he has no problem with it, especially not since their lovemaking always ends up being practically euphoric.

When Stiles' fingers move from his hair to grip onto his back, his nails digging into shifting muscles, Derek takes the teen's hands in his own and presses them down into the pillow on either side of his head.

He links their fingers together so that Stiles still has something to hold on to.

It seems to go on and on, and Stiles can't stop the endless whines and mewls that Derek's careful thrusts pull out of him. He holds onto the alpha's hands tightly and just gives into his ministrations, more than happy to give up his control and let his mate take the wheel. He doesn't know why—he's tried not to look too closely at any of the possible reasons for it—but being held down and made to take whatever Derek will give turns him on so much. His cock is hard as steel where it's trapped between their stomachs, and the feeling of the alpha's abs rubbing across it causes him to arch his body up to chase more of those amazing sensations. There's a small hint of over-stimulation there because of his earlier orgasm, but it's not nearly enough to deter him.

Sealing his mouth around Stiles' mating scar, Derek sucks on the sensitive skin to provide as much pleasure as he can for the teen. The new contact makes the needy noises coming from his mate's mouth sound all the more desperate, and he smirks around the skin before biting down on it, still careful to keep his fangs in check so he doesn't reopen the scar.

Stiles is in heaven. Every single part of his body feels like it's on fire, every nerve ending being stimulated. From the thick cock in his ass, unrelenting in its assault on his prostate, to the mouth on his mating scar, to the fact that their torsos are rubbing together, their hard nipples catching...all of it adds together until he doesn't know which way is up anymore. His mind has checked out completely, leaving his body behind to just _feel_ all the overwhelming sensations Derek is giving him. Wrapping his legs tighter around the alpha's hips, he digs his heels into the man's hairy ass to try and get him to go deeper and harder, though he's quickly forced to give up when his efforts prove futile. The constant slow burning in the depths of his gut tells him that his second orgasm is steadily approaching, the heat of it becoming more intense the longer Derek just keeps on going, never changing the pace of his movements. Even though he could feel it building, it's still strangely shocking when his cock spurts between their stomachs, coating them both with his come.

He picks his head up off the pillow and buries his nose in Derek's shoulder, using the alpha's scent to ground himself as he rides out his orgasm.

Feeling Stiles go suddenly boneless beneath him, Derek smirks in triumph at having made the teen come twice in such quick succession. He wonders how many times he can possibly make his mate come in a single night and tucks the thought away to revisit at a later date. Now that Stiles has been thoroughly taken care of, he finally makes his thrusts more forceful, snapping his hips forward roughly to chase his own pleasure.

He's careful to aim away from the teen's prostate after the first few, though, knowing that having it stimulated so soon after an orgasm feels more painful that it does pleasureful. When his knot seems to pop into existence suddenly and unexpectedly, he presses his lips to Stiles' and drinks in the high-pitched whine he gets when he brings his hips flush with the teen's cheeks one last time. His knot pops past the tight ring and stretches Stiles' ass wider than it has been all night. Immediately finding himself gripped in unrelenting tightness, his eyes almost roll back in his head as Stiles' walls twitch around him and milk him of his seed. Grinding his hips in tiny circles as his knot grows to its full size and locks them together, his orgasm washes over him as his cock jerks inside the fluttering channel and coats the teen's walls with endless jets of thick, hot come.

Stiles groans when Derek pulls away from him, cracking open his eyes and watching as the alpha lifts one of his legs and tries to turn them so that they're front-to-back instead.

He can't find the energy to help and just grunts his discomfort when the knot pulls a little against his ass, the ball of flesh still too big to be released. Eventually, Derek is able to succeed and shuffles up close behind him, spooning him and holding him tightly. He lifts his head obligingly when the alpha tries to slide an arm underneath it, sighing in contentment when he finds that the man's bicep makes a very comfortable pillow.

"Damn..." Stiles breathes eventually, tilting his head to the side so that Derek can slot his chin over his shoulder and snuffle adorably into his neck. "I swear that just gets better and better every time."

Derek smirks into the pale skin of Stiles' neck, happy to have pleased his mate. "I'm glad you think so," he replies, wrapping his left arm more securely around the teen's torso so that there's not a millimetre of space between them. His cock still spurts come inside Stiles' ass, filling him even more, but his orgasm has finally begun to taper off, the spurts becoming smaller and further apart as it gets closer to finishing. "Now, get some sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Stiles mumbles, turning and pressing one last kiss to Derek's bearded cheek before following his wolf's suggestion. He closes his eyes and lets unconsciousness finally overcome him, happy to be home.


	2. Advent

_\- Monday, August 6th, 2012 -_

Derek wakes up first the next morning, an hour before he and Stiles have to get up to get the latter ready for his first day of senior year. His knot has long since gone down, but he's still buried comfortably to the hilt inside of the teen, spooned up close behind him with his arms wrapped around his relaxed body. He's going to miss the summer, having gotten so used to being around Stiles practically twenty-four-seven. It'll be a rough change to have to be apart from him for hours at a time every weekday, but he supposes he's managed OK before and he'll be able to adjust back to managing again. He snuggles closer to Stiles and tucks his nose into the side of his neck, groaning quietly when he realises how their scents are so mingled together that he's unable to differentiate between the two of them. It's a wonderful feeling, and he smirks evilly when he thinks of how the rest of the pack will react later that morning. He always gets a real kick out of watching their horrified expressions when they realise just how much Stiles reeks of him after each time they make love.

In fact, he enjoys it so much that he's actually taken to deliberately rubbing his own come into the teen's pale skin just to elicit more of those reactions. Stiles rolls his eyes good-naturedly every time, but Derek has a sneaking suspicion that the teen actually loves it since he's never actually put up any form of protest.

Just as he's thinking about getting up prematurely, the feel of the come still drying between their bodies beginning to make him feel a little uncomfortable, Derek is stopped from pulling out and leaving the bed when Stiles begins to squirm back against him slightly, waking up. As with every morning, he listens attentively to the series of small whining sounds that slip out of the teen's mouth as he finally nears consciousness. He senses the exact moment he does.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he greets, his lips brushing lightly against the skin of Stiles' neck as he speaks since they're still pressed there.

Stretching as much as he can with Derek's strong arms still wrapped around him, Stiles grunts and turns his head to look back over his shoulder. "Morning," he replies, clamping a hand over his mouth as it opens wide in a long yawn. He wiggles backward into Derek's hold and winces slightly when he realises that they're still connected, his ass a little sore from the previous evening's activities.

"Please tell me I don't have to get up right this second..."

Chuckling, Derek shakes his head. "Nope. Don't worry; we've got a little while before we have to get ready to leave," he assures, snuggling impossibly closer. He runs the fingers of his right hand through Stiles' hair gently, the teen's head still pillowed on his bicep. "The rest of the pack are meeting you there, right?" He remembers overhearing the teens all plan a couple of days ago to gather together outside of the main building a few minutes before the first bell of the day. He'd been terribly nervous to start his own first day of senior year, but he thinks his fears were probably a lot worse than Stiles' because he was in a still-unfamiliar New York at the time, at a new school where he didn't know anybody. He knows Stiles will be fine with the rest of the pack there to keep him afloat in his absence.

"That's the plan," Stiles breathes, closing his eyes again. Now that he knows he has some more time, he's content to relax back into Derek's comforting warmth again. He really doesn't think there's anything better than early-morning cuddles with the hottest man on the planet. "As much as I'm looking forward to today, I'm looking forward to getting it over with even more so that I can have more snuggles. I'm totally dragging you right back up here as soon as the final bell rings, just so you know..."

He smirks when Derek snorts into his shoulder.

"You're gonna have to wait a bit longer than that, I'm afraid," Derek mutters, rubbing his left hand slowly back and forth across Stiles' chest. "You've got an extra training session with Deaton this week, remember, after school? You're supposed to meet him in the preserve near the Nemeton." He pulls back slightly when Stiles turns his head and groans deeply into his bicep, obviously annoyed at the reminder throwing a wrench in his plans. As much as he himself would love for the teen to skip this new after-school session, he knows how important the training is as, every time Stiles learns something new, his power grows along with his knowledge. Deaton had explained to him that it's imperative for Stiles to attend every session so that it doesn't overwhelm him, making sure he keeps in control of it all.

When Derek's fingers ghosting over his skin begin to tickle, Stiles grabs the alpha's hand in his own and holds it still to his chest instead. "Ugh, ruin my fun, why don't you?" he complains jokingly. "So...what are you going to be getting up to while I'm being bored out of my brain at school?"

He remembers from past discussions that Derek has been considering beginning to look for a job when school started back up again; the idea had made sense to him at the time, but he doesn't know whether the alpha has made a start already or not. After all, _he_ wouldn't want to be sitting around all day, just waiting for the rest of the pack to finish with whatever they were doing to come put him out of his misery.

"Well...I was planning on making a start at looking around for something to do while you're all busy with school," Derek explains, glancing over at the curtained window and seeing the sun has started to rise behind them. "I was thinking maybe something creative or artistic. I've still got my degrees around here somewhere, so I might as well finally put them to good use. After all, it'll also probably be a smart idea to get some form of steady income for this household; though it's nice knowing it's always there for us to fall back on, we can't live off of my family's money forever. It wouldn't feel right and I know I'd get bored having nothing to do all day." He watches as Stiles picks his left hand up and begins fiddling with his fingers, seemingly fascinated by them. "What're you doing?" he asks, remembering the teen doing something similar several times in the past.

He's never thought to ask what it's about before now, though, his curiosity having been sufficiently piqued.

Stiles hums quietly to himself before answering Derek's question, continuing to inspect the alpha's hand closely. "Nothing...just amusing myself," he says, smoothing his fingers across his mate's palm and inspecting all of the lines that run across the expanse of tanned skin. "I guess you could also say that there's a little admiring going on, if you really want to know.

"I love your hands..." He thinks back to the previous evening, when Derek had used his hands to hold his own down against the pillows so he couldn't really move. "They're so strong."

"You say that about every part of my body, it seems..." Derek muses, allowing Stiles to continue with his inspection. He shifts his claws out halfway through, wondering what reaction he'll get, and is surprised when Stiles just runs his fingers over them and presses the pad of one of them against the tip of a claw, almost as if he's seeing how much pressure he can apply before the skin breaks. A relieved sigh escapes his mouth when Stiles eases off again before any blood can be spilled; he never likes any situation in which he can smell the copper of his mate's blood, even if it's only brought about by the slip of a knife in the kitchen. Every time that's happened in the past when Stiles has cooked dinner for the pack in the evenings—it's thankfully a very rare occurrence—he's fussed over the teen until it was all cleaned and bandaged up again, beginning to heal. Stiles always responds to his overprotectiveness with a roll of his eyes, but he'll always protest if Derek even suggests that he take over the cooking. He learned early on not to bring the idea up again when Stiles had gotten all huffy.

It had ended with them getting into an argument, but they reconciled shortly afterward and partook in some rather fantastic make-up sex, so it all worked out fine.

"That's because every damn part of you is made up of nothing but solid muscle!" Stiles exclaims, finally dropping Derek's hand and pulling away. He winces when the alpha's cock slides out of his used hole, a substantial amount of come following in its wake and dripping down between his legs.

Turning onto his front to avoid it getting on the sheets too much, he stretches out all of his limbs before resting his head atop his crossed arms. He peers over at Derek's blushing face. "Seriously, I hardly ever see you work out," he looks distinctly disappointed at this fact, "so do you just do all of that whenever you're alone? Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining, not at all—I very much enjoy the results. It just seems a little weird. Is that a werewolf thing? Because all of the betas are packing some serious muscle as well. Not nearly as much as you, of course—no one's as big as you and you know how much I love that you're able to just...hold me down and _take_ like I push you to do so often.

"Like I said, I just find it a little weird."

Derek is a little overwhelmed by Stiles' little rant, not knowing where to make a start at addressing it all. While he thinks, he looks down between their bodies and sees that his come has begun to dry on his cock and in his pubic hair. A shower is definitely in his near future. The viscous fluid has also managed to get all over the sheets, having dripped down there when Stiles pulled away, so he knows the first thing he'll be doing when he gets back to the house after dropping his mate off at school is to change them and run the soiled ones through the washing machine. "I suppose being a werewolf makes it a little easier to gain muscle mass and keep it with less work than it would take for a human..." Derek explains, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "And yes, I do work out down in the basement quite a lot whenever you're out with the betas or something, but I don't spend _all_ of my free time down there. I do have other interests, you know." He's distracted when he sees Stiles wiggle his hips a little, probably because the sensation of his come slipping out of his ass has started to feel a little strange.

Still, the sight of the teen's cheeks shaking like that is rather inviting, so much so that he gets a little lost in them and doesn't realise that Stiles is still speaking to him for a few seconds.

"I'm aware that you have other interests, thank you very much. I do know my mate quite well, I think," Stiles defends, looking back over his shoulder and smirking when he sees how Derek appears to be entranced by the sight of his naked body. Every new reminder he gets about how attractive the alpha finds him stirs the fire in his gut that seems to constantly burn whenever he's around the older man.

"My eyes are up here, you know."

Shaking himself out of his daze, Derek reluctantly tears his eyes away from Stiles' smooth cheeks and meets the teen's amused gaze. His feels the tips of his ears turn pink with embarrassment when he sees the smirk on his mate's plump lips. "Shut up..." he mutters, looking away again and scenting Stiles as subtly as he can manage. When the teen wiggles his ass again, he succumbs to his desire to fit his palms around the pale globes, squeezing them a couple of times before pulling them apart.

He frowns a little when he sees how red and puffy the rim of Stiles' hole looks, shining slightly with the come that leaks out of it. "Does it hurt?"

"Mmm, a little, but it's a good kind of hurt, y'know?" Stiles replies, turning away from Derek again and resting his head back on his arms. He closes his eyes when he hears the alpha hum his understanding, jumping in surprise when he feels one of Derek's fingers begin to inspect his hole gently. A smirk slips onto his lips a few seconds later when he realises that his mate has apparently finished with his examination and has moved on to simply playing with the remnants of the previous night's lovemaking. "Having fun back there?" Amusement and a little bit of arousal drips from his voice. "Just don't start anything you can't finish, Sourwolf... We don't really have the time to wait for your knot to go down again before we have to get up."

"I know, I know... I won't," Derek assures, easing his thumb in alongside his index finger and opening Stiles' hole to its full width so that more of his come can run out. It seems to seep out continuously and he can't resist cupping his other hand down between the teen's legs to catch some of it. He hesitates for a second before moving forward and rubbing it into the smooth skin of Stiles' back.

The boy jumps again under his touch before relaxing back into the mattress.

While he already has a sneaking suspicion about what Derek is doing, Stiles wants to actually hear the man say it. He mumbles his question into the folded arms his face is pressed into. "You wouldn't happen to be rubbing your come into my skin to make me smell even more like you, would you?" he asks, succeeding at concealing the laughter in his voice.

He's long since resigned himself to the fact that he'll be made to put up with having a lot of the alpha's come embedded in his skin, probably for the rest of his life. It's not that much of a hardship to bear, if he's honest with himself, especially as it more often that not follows a particularly possessive round of sex triggered by him being enveloped in the scents of strangers. Plus, it usually comes with a nice massage afterward. They work out all of the tension he accumulates in his shoulders and back from the stress of taking care of all of the betas every day.

It takes a lot of energy to do it properly.

"Maybe a little..." Derek admits quietly, resolutely not looking up at Stiles face and instead keeping his eyes focused on his hands as they work. Soon enough, he's rubbed all of the come he can into the skin of the teen's back until it's all dry, gone from sight.

Leaning down, he presses his nose into the dip of Stiles' spine and breathes himself in, pleased when he finds that his scent has been embedded there good and proper. "I can't help myself. My wolf has been a bit restless at the thought of you being surrounded by all those other people. At least this way, it'll calm down a bit until you get home and can I do it all over again."

Once he realises that Derek has apparently finished scent marking him, Stiles pushes himself up and settles into his new position sitting next to the alpha, his legs crossed. He sighs amiably.

"The things I put up with to keep my cuddly Sourwolf happy," he teases, pinching both of Derek's cheeks. He chuckles when the alpha pulls his head away and pouts back at him petulantly. "With the way you constantly seem to want me to smell like you, I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days you lift you leg out of nowhere and mark your territory a different way!" He laughs deeply at his own joke, only managing to pull himself together again when he notices that Derek is looking off to the side, his cheeks red. "Wait...have you seriously considered doing that?!"

Derek's face flushes even darker than before. "Maybe..." he whispers, slightly ashamed at having been called out. "You're the one who wanted me to get in touch with all my, and I quote, 'wolfy urges', so don't blame me that letting the alpha take over completely comes with some...unsavoury side effects. Don't worry, though; I wouldn't ever think of _actually_ doing it. It's just something my wolf keeps telling me it wants whenever a stranger touches you for too long..." He makes to finally get up off of the bed and make a start at getting ready for the day so he can avoid seeing Stiles' reaction to his admission. His feet are stopped from touching the carpeted floor when one of the teen's hands wraps itself around his wrist, holding him in place.

He closes his eyes in preparation for the words of disapproval he expects are coming.

"Hold on there, Derek," Stiles says sternly, tugging on the alpha's arm to get him to sit back in his previous spot on the bed. While the man has grown to accept that he doesn't have to worry about his reaction to wolfing out whenever they make love, it's obvious to him that Derek still harbours some reservations about the rest of the instincts being an alpha werewolf gives him. Seeing his mate look so ashamed of himself just won't do. He beckons Derek closer and smiles fondly when the man immediately presses his nose into his neck, drawing comfort from the close contact. He cards his fingers gently through the alpha's hair to further reassure him. "I'm not saying I've ever thought of doing something like that before, and I don't know whether I'll want a repeat performance or if I'll even like it at all, but...I think I'd be willing to give it a go at some point." He feels Derek inhale sharply against his collarbone.

"We'll be talking in more depth about this before anything actually happens, mind you, but yeah...one day." He glances over at the clock on the nightstand, his eyes widening when he takes in the time. "Jeez, it's getting late. We'd better get up or I'll be late!"

His heart still beating irregularly in his chest from Stiles' apparent acceptance of one of his more embarrassing werewolf traits, it takes Derek a couple of seconds to realise that the teen is no longer on the bed with him. He looks around the room and sees that the bathroom door has been pushed to, the sounds of the shower being turned on coming from within. Getting up from the bed himself, he enters the bathroom and frowns when he sees Stiles holding his hand under the spray, gauging the water's temperature.

Stiles splutters indignantly when Derek pushes him out of the way and turns the shower off again.

"Hey! I just got that to the right temperature!" he whines, smacking the alpha lightly on his chest. He pouts when Derek refuses to move out of the way again and grant him access to the shower. "What suddenly crawled up your butt and died?"

Derek crowds Stiles back against the wall and boxes him in, his hands pressed to the tile on either side of the teen's head. His nostrils flare and he smirks wickedly as he takes in the hint of arousal his slightly aggressive behaviour draws from his mate. He leans in close so that his mouth rests right next to Stiles' right ear, his breath blowing across the shell and sending full-body shivers through the teen. "I'm not going to let you shower because it'll wash off all of my hard work. We can't have that now, can we?" he asks, his voice dripping with amusement. He looks down between their bodies and sees that Stiles' cock has begun to harden with anticipation, curving upwards until it pokes him in the hip. "Hmm...getting a little overexcited, I see. Too bad we don't have enough time for me to take care of that for you." With a deep chuckle, he steps away from Stiles and exits the room, heading straight downstairs to start cooking breakfast without putting on any clothes.

His senses tell him that no one else is in the house, so he doesn't worry about his nudity.

Sighing, Stiles pushes away from the wall and gives the shower one last longing look before turning to the sink instead. He cleans the worst of Derek's come from his body but leaves his back alone, acquiescing to the alpha's request.

Knowing he'll be the recipient of many disgusted looks when the betas get a whiff of him, he sighs again before heading back through to the bedroom, pulling out a random outfit and immediately shucking it all on carelessly, not really caring how he looks. The only thing he puts any thought into is his shirt, and he ends up selecting one of Derek's instead of one of his own, figuring the alpha will appreciate him being bathed even more in his scent. After checking his reflection out in the mirror briefly to make sure his hair isn't doing anything outrageous, he deems himself to be ready and follows Derek downstairs, walking straight through to the kitchen when he doesn't see the alpha anywhere else. His eyes widen when he finally catches sight of his wolf. Derek stands completely naked in front of the stove, facing away from him, and he can't help himself as he leans against the doorframe and stares appreciatively at his mate's hair-dusted ass for several minutes, only stopping when Derek turns to look at him curiously over his shoulder, one thick eyebrow raised.

"Don't mind me... Just admiring the view," he explains nonchalantly, finally stepping fully into the room and pulling out a couple of glasses from one of the cupboards.

Derek does a double take when he realises just whose shirt Stiles has opted for, a small, pleased smile slipping onto his face as he turns back to the frying pan on the stove, several strips of bacon sizzling inside of it. He doesn't worry about any of the grease spitting up and burning his skin; the tiny pinpricks of pain only last a couple of seconds before the burns are all healed again.

"That smells great," Stiles comments.

He takes a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and pouring them both a glass. He sets Derek's down next to the stove before leaning against the counter and watching the man work.

His mate is nowhere near his level when it comes to skill in the kitchen, but he figures the alpha does a decent enough job that he doesn't feel bad about letting him take the reigns every now and then. Plus, there's something oddly attractive about seeing Derek in an apron, the sight so domestic that it does funny things to his insides. Of course, the alpha isn't wearing one in that moment, but the sight of all of that naked, furry flesh is more than a fair compromise.

"Why, thank you very much!" Derek replies, a hand clutched to his chest jokingly. Deeming the bacon to be ready, he divvies the strips up equally between the two plates he laid out before he even started cooking and leaves the grease to cool so he can scrape it off and put it in the bin later. The bacon joins the scrambled eggs and hash browns already there, completing their meals.

"There we go; breakfast of kings." He picks up both plates and sets them next to each other at the island in the middle of the room.

It doesn't escape Derek's notice that Stiles' eyes never leave him, watching all of his movements with rapt attention, obviously liking what he's seeing. He doesn't acknowledge the teen's gaze, though he knows the tips of his ears are tinted pink again, giving away that he knows. He's long since given up the hope that his mate won't notice, as Stiles seems to always be on watch for any changes to his complexion that signal a shift in his emotions. The teen even goes so far as to compliment him on any small thing he can find to make him blush deliberately. He curses that it usually works. Taking seats side by side around the island, Derek and Stiles both tuck into their breakfasts with gusto, having not eaten a lot the previous day since they were travelling for so much of it. Derek looks up at this mate when he's halfway finished with his food, observing the way Stiles shovels his own into his mouth at a startling rate. "So...how are you feeling about today?" he asks eventually, taking another mouthful of eggs.

Stiles hums as he chews a strip of bacon, swallowing it down before answering.

"OK, I guess. I'm still a little nervous about all the work they'll no doubt dump on us right from the get-go, but as long as I stick around Lydia, I think I can manage it," he explains, downing the rest of his orange juice. "I'm still surprised I did so well on the end-of-year exams. I know I couldn't have done it with her help." He remembers how Lydia was almost constantly on his case in the lead-up to the exams, making sure he studied and knew enough of the material since he was still pretty torn up from his dad's death to stay on top of it all by himself.

Most of his teachers had given him some leeway in deference to his grieving, but he didn't want to rely on their generosity too much, lest he find himself lost when they started expecting more of him again.

"You got everything you need?" Derek asks when he's finished his own food, pulling out a piece of paper seemingly from nowhere. He lays it flat on the countertop. Written across the lines is a list of all of the books and equipment he suspects that Stiles will need to have with him for his first day, compiled from his own experience with senior year.

"Mmm, yup!" Stiles says happily, popping the 'P' exaggeratedly.

"I've got most of it already in my backpack, but there are a couple of things Deaton wanted me to bring for our training session later that I still have to wrangle together." He eats the last strip of bacon on his plate before hopping up off of his stool and putting it in the dishwasher, pleased when he finds it's already been emptied, presumably by his mate when the man first came downstairs earlier. After taking Derek's plate when it's held out to him, he tries to keep his eyes averted so that he doesn't ogle the man too obviously. Derek has turned around on his stool in order to keep facing in his direction, his legs spread obscenely so that absolutely _nothing_ is left to the imagination. He can see out of the corner of his eye that there is still some white among the dark curls between the alpha's legs, another reminder of what they'd done the previous evening. Standing again, he walks past Derek and out into the living room. "Right, while I get what I need for Deaton, why don't you go upstairs and actually get dressed? We need to leave soon and I'm the only one that's allowed to see you naked."

He jumps when he hears a growl come from directly behind.

Derek spins Stiles around and kisses him passionately, the proud declaration that he belongs to the teen igniting a fire in his veins. He doesn't let it get too out of hand, though, and pulls away after a minute to follow through with the teen's suggestion. When he's halfway up the stairs, he peers back through to the living room and smirks when he sees that Stiles is still stood where he left him, dumbstruck.

Soon enough, after a couple of minutes of waiting by the front door with his now-heavy backpack slung over his shoulder, Stiles watches as Derek comes back down the stairs fully dressed. The man wears his signature leather jacket again, a sight that never fails to make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He ignores it this time, though, leading the way outside and immediately hopping into the passenger seat of Derek's Camaro, ready to face the day.

* * *

When Derek parks in the lot in front of the main school building, Stiles hops straight out of the car and retrieves his backpack from the backseat before looking around and watching all of the other students mill about. He doesn't know why, but he expected it to feel different since it's his last year. In reality, most everything feels exactly the same, the only difference being the distinct drop in the amount of curious stares he used to get from everyone before the previous year ended and summer started. He spots most of the rest of the pack already gathered by the front steps, obviously waiting for him to join them. Sure enough, after he stares in their direction for a couple of seconds, the wolves' eyes all flick over to meet his own, smiles appearing on all of their faces. Jackson is the only one who remains impassive, but Stiles knows that it's just the other boy keeping up his uncaring façade, having suspected that the beta has unwilling warmed up to him somewhat since he started taking care of the pack practically full-time several months ago.

Following Stiles out of the car, Derek rolls his eyes when he immediately hears an abundance of hushed whispering coming from all the other teenagers in the area. He thinks they'd have stopped practically salivating over him by now since he's dropped Stiles off at school on more than one occasion, but still they whisper excitedly any time he shows his face.

It's marginally annoying, but he's able to block out their words for the most part. He walks around the car and stops next to his mate, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

As soon as he sees the devilish glint in Stiles' eyes, he knows what's coming.

Glancing off to the side briefly, Stiles sees that, as expected, the majority of the girls in their vicinity are all gawking at the man next to him. While he doesn't blame them—Derek is essentially the epitome of 'tall, dark and handsome'—he still feels the urge to prove to them all that the man is already taken in the most obvious way he can think of. He wraps a hand around the back of Derek's neck and pulls him down so their lips connect, immediately shoving his tongue inside the alpha's mouth when he gasps in surprise. He moans quietly and relinquishes control when he feels strong hands cup his cheeks and hold him in place, grabbing a firm hold of his mate's shoulders instead, his fingers gripping the leather of his jacket tightly.

When Stiles hears the other students' murmurs of interest change into ones of disappointment and jealousy, he smirks into the kiss and works to make it more passionate and loud, pressing his body up close to Derek's until they touch from chest to crotch. A wolf whistle off in the distance is what finally draws him to break away from the alpha's demanding lips, and he recognises the voice as belonging to Isaac. Derek's warm breath blows across his face as their foreheads rest together.

"Love you, Sourwolf... I'll see you later, 'K?" Stiles says affectionately, stroking over Derek's bearded cheek before slinging his backpack back into place on his shoulder and striding off to join the rest of the pack on the front steps.

Isaac steps away from Danny when he sees that Stiles is finally approaching.

He meets the human teen halfway and practically tackles him to the ground in a hug. It only lasts a couple of seconds, until an overpowering scent assaults his nose and he's forced to pull away before he gags, recognising it as one he's unfortunately come across several times in recent memory. "Ugh, it's good to see you, but...damn, you stink!" he whines sadly, a little put out that he can't hang off of Stiles in the puppy-like fashion he's grown accustomed to. Still, he hops along after the other teen and rejoins the rest of the pack when Stiles begins walking again.

As Stiles was expecting, as soon as he gets within smelling distance of the betas, they all instantly recoil from him with horrified expressions on their faces. He rolls his eyes. "Don't look at me like that! If you want to blame someone, blame the alpha who wouldn't let me shower before we left the house earlier..." he excuses, waving a hand in Scott's direction when his best friend makes a series of choking sounds.

"What is he talking about?" Lydia asks Jackson, her eyes still fixed on Stiles. She only tears them away when the beta doesn't immediately answer, her confusion growing even more when she sees the boy's complexion is looking particularly green. "Jackson?"

Danny peers over at the pair and smirks when he sees how sick his friend looks to be, the other beta obviously in no position to open his mouth for fear of something other than words coming out. "Apparently Derek did a bit of, ah...shall we say, 'scent marking', before he drove Stiles here," he answers, sharing a knowing look with Lydia when he sees comprehension appear on her immaculately made-up features.

"I don't really get it, but it might just be an alpha or a mating thing..."

Lydia turns back to Stiles with her eyebrows raised, happy that she doesn't have the improved sense of smell of a werewolf. Shaking her head in disapproval, she clamps a hand on both Jackson's and Stiles' shoulders and leads them inside, heading in the direction of her locker. "Alright, everyone ready for this?" she asks, inputting her combination and shoving the books she won't need until later inside.

As she was expecting, her question is answered rather unenthusiastically.

Stiles unzips his backpack and pulls his new schedule out from between the pages of one of the heavy books within. Glancing down at the paper, he frowns when he notices that his first class of the day is Chemistry, still with Ms. Adler from last year. He swears he'll never be free of that woman and laments the fact that he has to kick off the new school year in her grumpy presence. "Please tell me at least one of you has Chem first, as well?" he whines, hoping that the company of his pack will help to make the lessons a little more tolerable. Looking up, he's pleased to find that Isaac, Danny and Jackson all nod in response. He smiles back gratefully. At that moment, the first bell rings, signalling that it's time for everybody to begin heading to their different classrooms. he bids farewell to the rest of the pack and splits off from them, trudging along the hallways with the three betas walking along behind him, keeping their distance. As soon as he steps foot in the room, he takes a stool in one of the middle rows, only to look around in confusion when the stool next to him isn't immediately filled by a pack member.

He spots the three of them sat on the other side of the room, Isaac looking right back at him guiltily. "Uh, guys?"

"Sorry, Stiles, but uh...we're not sitting next to you because of...well," Isaac explains, holding a hand up in front of his nose when he finds he can't get out the actual words. He leans forward and smacks Jackson upside the head when the other beta laughs derisively in Stiles' direction.

Stiles sighs deeply and turns back to face the front of the room, watching as the rest of the class filters in through the door. He sympathises with all of their despondent expressions. "I will have my revenge on that man... Mark my words," he mutters under his breath, already plotting all of the different ways he can get back at Derek for inadvertently making him an outcast within his own pack. He's brought out of his plotting when the teacher walks in, extinguishing all the talking in the room as her heels click loudly against the hard floor. As soon as he looks up, Ms. Adler's gaze snaps immediately to meet his, her eyes narrowing with disdain.

"Alright, alright! Settle down, everyone!" Ms. Adler yells, smacking a hand down loudly on her desk to make sure everybody's attention is focused on her. "Before we get started with this last, tedious year, I have an announcement to make: we have a new student joining us."

She signals to someone who's standing in the hallway, out of sight.

All of the students watch the door with great interest, all of them imagining just who their new peer could be. Hushed conversations break out as a girl walks into the room, a bag slung over her shoulder and a couple of books clutched to her chest. Her hair is a dyed red and falls pin-straight down past her shoulders. Her heavy bangs are cut just above her eyes, which are so dark they look almost black. Her outfit looks like a strange compilation of several different styles and Stiles knows immediately that Lydia would faint at the sight of it all. She wears black boots on her shoes, with the ends of her torn, sky blue jeans tucked inside of the tops. A white, smart-looking fitted shirt is covered almost completely by a thin, red leather jacket.

"This is Charlie Alexander. She just moved here from Florida. I trust you'll make her feel welcome," Ms. Adler says, snorting to herself as if her words are the funniest thing she's ever heard. "OK, Ms. Alexander, why don't you take the empty seat next to Mr. Stilinski for now."

Stiles' eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he looks around the rest of the room, seeing that the stool next to his is indeed the only free one.

It figures that's just his luck. Nevertheless, when Charlie trudges over to her designated seat, her eyes downcast as she passes the other students between her and it, he plasters on a friendly smile when she finally looks up, stalling almost as if she's waiting for his permission to sit down. He nods obligingly and turns back to face the blackboard when Ms. Adler begins teaching, not wanting to be called out by the woman again like he has been several times in the past. It's always incredibly embarrassing. Luckily, she seemed to ease off of him slightly following his dad's death, but he suspects that she won't hesitate to lay into him again if he gives her the chance. As soon as Ms. Adler gives them instructions to partner up to perform an experiment, he glances sideways at Charlie as sees that she appears to be studiously examining her orange fingernails. Pity stirs for her in his gut and he decides to strike up a conversation in hopes of making her feel more comfortable, remembering how much it sucks to be an outcast. He waits until she opens her book before speaking, his friendly smile back in place when she looks up at him, startled.

"Hey, I'm Stiles," he greets, holding out his hand. "It's nice to meet you!"

Charlie tries to return Stiles' smile as best she can, though she thinks it turns out to be more of a grimace. She shakes his proffered hand. "Charlie," she replies timidly, a little thrown by the other teen's exuberance.

"So...Florida, huh?" Stiles continues, flipping to the required page in his own textbook. "I've never been. What's it like there?" He notices that the teacher glares in his direction, but since the woman doesn't actually tell him to be quiet, he figures he's OK to keep talking, at least for the time being. The more he looks at Charlie, the more he thinks the girl looks like a more rough-and-tumble version of Lydia. It's a strange thought, one he vows never to share with her.

Flipping through the pages in her textbook, Charlie doesn't answer immediately. She's never found it easy to carry a conversation, and having to participate in one with someone who seems so boisterous on her first day in a new school, in a new town—in a new state, even—is a lot to deal with.

Having always skirted around the edges of all the different social circles at her old school, she wonders if Stiles is in a similar situation, considering that the stool next to his was the only one free. Deciding to just bite the bullet—making a new friend on her first day would be quite the accomplishment, she figures—she tucks her hair behind her ear and tries to adopt a more positive attitude. "It's alright, I guess. Very hot," she replies, feeling herself grow more confident the more words leave her mouth. "I haven't noticed too much of a difference between there and here yet, though, to be honest."

"Well, that's gotta be a good thing, right?" Stiles begins theorising.

"It's probably hard enough adjusting to moving to a new place without it feeling completely different than what you're used to." He glances over Charlie's shoulder and noticing that Danny, Isaac and Jackson have somehow managed to form into a threesome instead of having to split off and work in pairs. He rolls his eyes good-naturedly when Jackson smirks in his direction, the beta obviously pleased at his getting stuck talking to the new girl.

"So what's your story? Did you already have family in town or...?"

Charlie smiles to herself when she finally happens across the page she's supposed to be reading from. None of the information written on it seems familiar to her, though, and she theorises it's just because her old school taught things in a different order. "I suppose you're right about that. I don't know what I would've done if my mother had moved us to Alaska or something!" she laughs quietly, helping Stiles set up the apparatus they'll need for the day's experiment. "And no, I don't know anyone here; it's just me and my mom.

"We moved because the company she works for transferred her here out of the blue, into one of the houses in that new development over on Lake Street. It's a bit of a downgrade compared to our old house, but I suppose we didn't really need something that big anyway, so it's alright, I guess."

Stiles makes an approving noise, turning on their Bunsen burner. The rest of the class passes pretty quickly, which he thinks makes a nice change from the way Chemistry usually seems to drag. He spends the majority of it getting Charlie to open up more and more and is happy when, by the time the bell rings, she seems to have come out of her shell considerably. Before she has a chance to walk off to her next class, he stops her with a hand on her shoulder. "You can sit with me and my friends during lunch, if you don't want to sit alone," he offers, seeing Isaac stood waiting for him by the door and beckoning him over. He back-pedals when he notices the alarmed expression on Charlie's face. "It's fine if you do, by the way. There's nothing wrong with some good ol' solitude, but...I thought I'd offer just in case. I promise I won't let anyone interrogate you too much, but I might not be able to wrangle Lydia and Erica in as well as the others. Those two are a handful..."

"That's the understatement of the century," Isaac says when he finally comes to a stop next to Stiles. He breathes through his mouth so he doesn't accidentally get a whiff of Derek's pungent scent, which still smothers the other boy.

"Charlie, this is Isaac. Isaac, Charlie," Stiles offers, gesturing between the two. He smiles when the beta gives the redhead an energetic wave. "It's probably for the best it worked out this way, I think, since Isaac's one of the easiest members of our little friendship group to get along with. A good choice for first introductions." He smiles widely when he sees the embarrassed and grateful expression that appears on the curly-haired teen's face at his compliment. Turning back to Charlie, he's happy to see that she appears to be handling meeting another new person relatively well. He got the impression from her earlier shyness that it's not the easiest thing for her to do. With a gentle nudge, he pushes Isaac in the direction of the door, following the beta out into the hallway with Charlie in tow. He glances at her as they walk. "What class have you got next?"

"Uh..." Charlie says uncertainly, fumbling her schedule out of a folder from her bag. "History, I think. I don't know where that is, though..." She looks forward to being lost the majority of the time for the foreseeable future.

Luckily for her, she's usually quick to pick things up.

"Mmm, I've got AP Math next, but don't worry; I think Isaac has History now, too," Stiles assures, smiling and nodding back when the beta nods his assent. "See? You can just follow him. He'll take good care of you, I promise." The trio come to a stop when they reach the end of the corridor where they have to split off from each other. "So, are we on for lunch?" He's relieved when Charlie says 'yes'. "Excellent! We'll meet outside the cafeteria, OK? Isaac can show you the way. C'ya!" Offering a parting wave, Stiles heads in the opposite direction from Isaac and Charlie, walking toward his next class.

* * *

Everything goes pretty smoothly for the next couple of Stiles' classes.

Lunch was rather eventful, as he had been expecting. He was pleased to find that Charlie hadn't changed her mind when he'd met her and Isaac by the cafeteria doors, subsequently going inside and taking seats around their usual table. He'd been surprised when Isaac actually sat next to him, having thought that all of the betas would sit on the opposite side, as far away from him as they could get. The fact that the curly-haired teen had his scarf pulled up over his face, covering his nose, gives him an explanation as to how the other boy can suddenly stand to be near him. The rest of the pack was quick to join them and introductions were made. A stern look had been enough to deter most of them from asking too many questions too quickly, but just like he'd warned Charlie of earlier, Lydia and Erica were incorrigible and not even his threats of refusing to cook them treats later were enough to convince them to lay off. Luckily, Charlie didn't appear too traumatised by the end of the lunch period, agreeing to join them all the next day as well.

Stiles tags along with the rest of the boys to the locker room at the end of the day, hanging around as they all change into their lacrosse gear in preparation for that day's practice session with Coach Finstock. He doesn't bother changing his own clothes, planning on following through with his decision yesterday to have a talk with the coach before the man can send everybody out onto the field. He notices that the betas are all glancing repeatedly at him in confusion, but he holds off on explaining for the time being, figuring that they'll probably overhear his and the coach's discussion through the office walls, the nosey wolves that they are.

"Alright, you lazy sacks of bones! Let's get this show on the road!" Finstock greets as he walks out of his office. He urges everyone to leave the locker room with wild hand gestures, his clipboard almost flying out of his fingers in his vigour.

The team all follow his instruction willingly, not wanting to be on the receiving end of any of his scathing remarks.

When the coach's eyes land on him, narrowing suspiciously, Stiles swallows nervously and steps forward. "Um, can I speak to you before you go out there, too?" he asks the man, relieved when Finstock nods his assent and leads him back over to his office. Just before the coach shuts the door, he notices that Isaac and Scott are peeking back through the exit to the field. He shrugs at them when they both raise their eyebrows in question. When he and Coach Finstock are alone, he takes a seat in front of the man's desk. "So..." He's a little lost about where to begin, but guesses that the best way to go about this conversation is to just come right out and say it, to rip the bandaid off, so to speak. "I want to quit the team."

A squawk of, "What?!" comes from the other side of the door, from Scott, Stiles assumes.

Finstock is left speechless for a few seconds before he clears his throat and leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk. "Well...I'd be lying if I said I didn't see this coming," he begins, sighing as he stands and heads over to one of the filing cabinets against the wall.

"You came to practice less and less toward the end of the last year. At first, I figured it was just because of, uh...your dad and stuff, but then after you seemed to get back to your old self and you still missed several practices in a row? Yeah, this isn't unexpected. In fact...I already have you down on my records as no longer being a member of the lacrosse team." He pulls out a folder from one of the sliding drawers and leafs through the papers within.

"Mmm, I thought that, since I don't really play anyway, the time I waste during practice could be better spent elsewhere," Stiles explains, fidgeting nervously when Finstock looks up at the mention of time-wasting. "And I'll still be at all the games and stuff to cheer on Scott and Isaac and everyone."

"Well, I guess I'll just say I'm sorry to lose you. Since I'll only see you in class now, I'll have to pick on you more often to make the most of it," Finstock says, chuckling to himself as he sets the folder down on his desk and walks around it. He holds out his hand for Stiles to shake before ushering him out of the door again and back out into the locker room. "See you around, Stilinski." With that, he walks outside to the field, intent on putting the remaining members of the lacrosse team through their paces, suspecting that the majority of them will have slacked off over the summer. He'll no doubt have to stay on their asses while he whips them back into shape in time for the new season to begin.

Stiles lingers in the locker room for a few minutes before heading out to the parking lot, where Derek is probably already there waiting for him.

He runs his fingers down his locker and feels a little sad that he'll never use it again. While he still knows he made the right decision in quitting the team—more and more of his time will be taken up by his training with Deaton as they venture into the more difficult aspects of learning how to use magic and work different spells—lacrosse has been a substantial part of his life for years now, ever since Scott made him go to tryouts their freshman year. Sighing, Stiles gives the room one last once-over before leaving and going outside. As he was expecting, when he gets around to the front of the building, he sees that the majority of students have already cleared off home for the day, leaving the lot practically empty. Derek's familiar black Camaro is parked right next to the front steps, so he heads over to it and smiles when the alpha gets out of the car to greet him. "Hey, Sourwolf," he says, returning Derek's hug when he finds himself pressed against the man's broad chest, his mate's strong arms keeping him in place.

"You still smell like me," Derek growls, a rumble of approval building in his chest as he shoves his nose in Stiles' neck without preamble. It's good to know his earlier plan worked, his scent strong enough to overpower all of the others his mate would've encountered during the day. There's hardly a single trace of any of the other students on the teen, but there are two small ones that stick out. He recognises one as belonging to Isaac, but who the second one belongs to is a mystery to him.

"Yeah, yeah, big guy, I'm still yours," Stiles says obligingly, patting Derek on the back a couple of times before making to pull away again. He catches sight of Charlie getting into her car on the other side of the lot over the alpha's shoulder and waves in her direction, frowning in confusion when the girl looks at him with wide eyes before driving away quickly.

Shaking his head, he figures he'll just ask Charlie about her strange behaviour when he sees her the next day.

Before Derek can turn back to the Camaro, he pokes the man roughly in the centre of his chest, levelling him with an accusatory glare. "Mark my words, Der: I _will_ be getting my revenge on you at some point in the near future. Because of you smothering me in the scent of your come earlier, none of the betas would even come _near_ me today."

Derek smirks before sliding behind the wheel of his car and turning the keys in the ignition. "Bring it on," he challenges. "I should've gotten you to record their reactions... I'd have paid good money to see them, especially Jackson's." He turns onto the road leading to the closest entrance to the preserve.

Grudgingly, Stiles allows a smile to appear on his lips as he flashes back to the horrified expression on Jackson's face when they'd met up that morning. "I have to admit, that part of the whole thing was a little amusing," he relents, watching the trees blur past the window as Derek speeds them to his session with Deaton. When silence falls inside the car, he remembers his and the alpha's conversation before they'd gotten out of bed. "So how did the whole job-search thing go?

"Find anything promising?"

"There were a couple of things that looked pretty interesting," Derek explains, making a small detour to the local McDonald's and pulling up to the drive thru. He turns to look at Stiles expectantly as they wait for the car in front of theirs to give their order to the employee on the other side of the speaker. "You hungry? I haven't eaten all day, so I feel like I could eat a whole cow." Soon enough, he pulls the car to a stop in one of the parking spaces next to the building, taking all of their chosen foods out of the brown paper bag he was given at the third window. It's not too often that Stiles allows him or anyone else in the pack to consume fast food, so every time the teen does, he makes sure to savour it. He's tried a couple of times in the past to sneak some during the day if Stiles is ever off doing something else, but he quickly discovered that it's not a good idea to try and outsmart his mate. The human teen had ended up managing to rope Isaac in on his plans to get the pack on a healthier diet, getting the beta to use his nose to ferret out any infractions.

Stiles had given him a whole speech both times he'd tried, saying that just because he's a werewolf doesn't mean he doesn't have to worry about his health.

"So?" Stiles says around a mouthful of french fries. He looks down at the food in his lap and frowns when he sees that he's almost finished it all. Ordinarily, he would have protested Derek's suggestion of fast food, but he knows that his training session with Deaton is likely to be quite tiring, so eating something—even if that something doesn't have much nutritional value—is probably a good idea. He doesn't think he'll be in the mood to cook anything when they're done and he and Derek get back to the house. When the alpha just looks at him dumbly, he rolls his eyes before expanding on his question:

"The job search? You were about to tell me how it went before we got food."

Nodding, Derek devours the last of his cheeseburger before balling up the wrapper and tossing it in the brown paper bag with the rest of the rubbish. "Right... As I was saying, I found two potential jobs that I might want to apply for," he begins, using a tissue to clean the grease from his fingers. "One of them is a job at the local museum, helping to curate exhibitions and stuff like that, but I think I'd prefer to get the other one. The company is based back in New York, but I could do most of the work from here at home. I'd only have to go there every few months to make sure everything's on track and everyone's on the same page. I'd be sort of like...an architectural consultant."

"I'm still having trouble believing that you were a double major in art and architecture..." Stiles comments offhandedly, cleaning off his hands as well and dumping the bag down by his feet in the footwell. When he looks back up at Derek, he smiles abashedly before explaining.

"I guess it's just me thinking stereotypically, but you don't really look like the type to be interested in stuff like that, much less that you'd actually pursue it as a vocation."

"I suppose I can understand that," Derek accepts, starting the Camaro back up and continuing their journey to the preserve. It doesn't take long before he's pulling to a stop again next to the road closest to the Nemeton. He decides to be chivalrous and carry Stiles' backpack for him, his eyes widening when he first picks it up since he didn't expect it to be quite so heavy. "What do you have in here? A dictionary?"

Stiles shakes his head, skipping ahead a couple of paces and walking backward instead so that he's facing Derek. "Nope. I have two of them," he says, keeping his face as expressionless as possible. A smirk manages to slip onto his face when the alpha falters in his steps and looks up at him incredulously, his eyes wide. "Honestly, Sourwolf... I'm totally adding _Fruits Basket_ to the list of things I'm making you watch, just so you know. You miss far too many of my references, I actually feel a little embarrassed for you." He winks and laughs brightly when Derek just rolls his eyes and soldiers on. It's not long before they reach the clearing where the Nemeton sits, finding Deaton perched atop the edge of the stump. The man looks impatient.

Deaton's head snaps up when he hears the approach of two pairs of footsteps.

He raises an eyebrow at Stiles, looking unimpressed. "Do we need to have another talk about the importance of promptness, Mr. Stilinski?" he asks, standing and walking over to the teen. "I shouldn't think I'd need to remind you that these sessions are imperative if you still wish to be Derek's emissary. Do you? Because you don't appear to be taking this very seriously."

Derek speaks up before Deaton can go on any further, coming to Stiles' defence. "It's my fault we're late," he begins, moving forward so that he stands protectively a little in front of his mate. "I stopped off on the way to get some food."

Narrowing his eyes at the older man, almost as if he's challenging him to disregard his explanation, he's pleased when Deaton seems to deflate, releasing a deep sigh before turning back to Stiles.

"Just...try and make sure it doesn't happen again, alright?" Deaton asks, nodding in satisfaction when Stiles hums his assent. "Now, before we actually start this session, I have a little surprise for the both of you. We have a guest, someone whom I trust you will both remember. They'll be sticking around for a little while to assist me with Stiles' training." He looks back over his shoulder and waits, knowing that who he's speaking of will have heard him and taken his words as their cue to make their entrance.

Stiles steps sideways so he can see around Deaton, watching for any movement in the trees. He's incredibly curious about who this new, second mentor could possibly be. His eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when the mystery person finally appears.


	3. Foresight

When lacrosse practice comes to an end, Isaac, Scott, Jackson and Danny head back to the locker room and strip out of their gear before stepping into the showers to clean the sweat off of their bodies. It doesn't take long and they're dressed again and leaving before the rest of the team even has a chance to pull off their own soiled clothes. The day's training had been rather pointless; the coach spent the entirety of it shouting insults at them while making them run endless laps. They guess they should've expected it, though, since Finstock has never exactly been the most sane of coaches. The betas find Lydia and Allison waiting for them when they get outside, the pair sat atop a low wall with their heads bent together.

"What are you two still doing here?" Isaac asks when he reaches the two girls, a confused frown on his face. Neither of them have ever stayed behind to wait for practice to finish before, so seeing them there now doesn't make any sense to him. "We didn't have plans, did we?" He glances sideways at Danny and breathes a sigh of relief when the other teen shakes his head.

"We didn't, no," Lydia replies, hopping down from the wall and fixing her skirt, running her hands down the material to get as many of the wrinkles out as she can, "but I thought we could go and see a movie or something since I have nothing better to do. You in?" The way she flicks her eyes between all of the betas' faces tells them that she's not really asking, but instead telling. When they all accept, Lydia smiles, pleased, and leads the way to their cars. It doesn't take them long to drive over to the movie theatre and once inside they spend several long minutes in a heated debate over what to actually watch.

The boys all refuse to see _Step Up: Revolution_ and the girls refuse to see _The Dark Knight Rises_. Eventually, Lydia narrows her eyes at Jackson to get him to agree with her suggestion of _Katy Perry: Part of Me_. She smirks when the boy immediately changes his tune to match her own.

Danny and Isaac both roll their eyes and just go along with it to avoid anymore arguing. Scott doesn't even appear to be aware of what's happening, the crooked-jawed beta too busy staring at Allison while she smiles sweetly back at him. It isn't a coincidence that the girl chose that moment to bring out her pearly whites. They pay for their tickets, choosing three of the double seats right up at the back of the theatre so they can cuddle up with their partners.

"So, what did you guys think of the new girl?" Danny asks when they've gotten comfortable. Since the movie hasn't started yet and there aren't that many other people in the room, he doesn't feel bad about talking. He takes a sip of his chosen beverage and holds out his bag of popcorn obligingly when Isaac makes grabby hands at him, rolling his eyes at the childish yet somehow endearing gesture.

"I thought Charlie was OK," Allison replies, shifting sideways in her seat so that she's pressed up against Scott's side. It feels a little odd that Kira isn't there with them, but the girl had said her parents wanted her home right after school that day. "A little shy, but that's to be expected, I guess. I remember how scared I was when _I_ was the new girl. It was good of Stiles to talk to her and try to make her feel welcome. It's not easy moving to a new place where you don't know anyone." She smiles to herself as reminisces back to her first few days attending Beacon Hills High, when Lydia had taken her under her wing and Scott had been really friendly and understanding. The two definitely helped her transition.

Lydia takes out her phone and answers a text from her mother, the woman asking whether or not she's gotten home yet. "That girl needs a major makeover," she offers, shuddering again as she remembers the disaster that Charlie's outfit had been. She'd looked almost as hopeless as she used to think Stiles did, before the boy had won her over and his lack of fashion sense started to become more charming than anything.

"I swear, if she's going to be a part of our little social group from now on, I'll need to get my hands on her wardrobe at some point before I go insane. Incidentally, why did Stiles rope her into sitting with us at lunch? It wasn't like you not to cling to him like an affection-starved puppy, Isaac. What gives?"

"It's because of how much he reeked of Derek..." Isaac replies sadly, just the act of recalling the scent making him wrinkle his nose in disgust again. "I sat with Jackson and Danny in Chemistry instead, since the smell wasn't so bad from the other side of the room. That left the stool next to Stiles free, so when Charlie was introduced, she ended up sitting there. I don't know why he struck up a conversation with her, but you know how nice he is. I guess he was just trying to make her feel less afraid about being in an unfamiliar environment. She did look really nervous at first."

The lights begin to go down just as Isaac finishes speaking, signalling that the movie is about to start. Everybody stops talking as they watch the trailers, all of them on the lookout for anything that might be worth watching in the coming months when it comes out.

The betas wince whenever there's a loud noise, whether from an explosion or when the musical scores get too loud. Going to the movie theatre now that they have werewolf hearing is always a bit of a painful experience, so they spend the majority of it with their hands covering their ears.

This lowers the volume to a more acceptable level.

Jackson sighs deeply when the title card flashes up on the screen, looking down at his lap and reconsidering his life choices. "I can't believe I let you talk me into watching this crap," he whispers to Lydia, praying that this doesn't turn into _The Notebook_ 2.0. He doesn't think he can survive his girlfriend becoming that obsessed with another girly film again, since she more often than not ropes him into watching them with her. He rolls his eyes when Lydia just smacks him once on the arm and tells him to shut up, thinking that she's lucky he cares for her enough to put up with her controlling ways. He dutifully sits through the feature in silence, reluctantly letting himself get sucked into Katy Perry's backstory and her struggle to achieve success. It actually opens his eyes to how hard the woman works, since he's always just assumed she was another manufactured pop star that has gotten everything handed to her on a silver platter the entirety of her life.

He's still not a fan of her music, but he supposes that she seems like a decent sort of person, at least. Nevertheless, he's grateful when the ending credits begin to roll, getting to his feet and following his companions down the steps to the theatre's exit.

When they step outside into the parking lot, the pack is surprised to find the sun beginning to set, painting the sky a deep orange that seems somehow sinister. Lydia gets a strange feeling in her gut as she follows Jackson to his Porsche and can't stop herself from looking around the place to see if anybody or anything is watching her. She hasn't been doing much to get in touch with her banshee powers lately, having gotten distracted from trying to learn how to understand them. She'd focused instead on making sure Stiles kept up with his school work so he didn't have to repeat a grade.

As a result, she's still not too sure what to think when she feels something like this, whether it's real or just her overactive imagination playing tricks on her. She guesses it's the latter when nothing appears out of the ordinary and turns back to Jackson, noticing that the beta is staring at her with open concern on his face.

She smiles and shakes her head to let him know that everything is fine before getting into the passenger seat of his car so he can drive her back to school, to her own vehicle.

To take her mind off of her jangled nerves, Lydia spends the entire car ride pestering Jackson with questions about the movie, aiming to see whether he was paying attention or not. She smirks at him when she sees that her badgering is getting on his nerves, very much enjoying winding the beta up. To her surprise, Jackson is able to answer most of her questions correctly. Figuring that she'll be nice after a while, she changes the topic and asks how practice had gone earlier instead, sharing her boyfriend's annoyance at Coach Finstock when she's told about how much of a tyrant the man had been.

Everybody bids farewell to each other when they get back to the school's parking lot, splitting off to their respective cars and bikes and heading home. Lydia feels an itch at the base of her skull the entire drive, unable to shake the feeling that somebody is watching her. When she parks in her driveway, she races to get inside the front door of her house, practically slamming it behind herself like there's something chasing her when she crosses the threshold. "Pull yourself together, Lydia... There's nothing there," she assures herself as she walks through to the kitchen to get a drink. She frowns when she realises that her mother isn't home and pulls out her phone again, sending off a text to the woman asking where she is since she was so adamant about her getting home as soon as possible earlier.

Her mom's absence seems conspicuous, but Lydia feels relief when she gets a response reasonably quickly, telling her that her mother ended up staying after school to do some more preparation for future lessons and that she won't be home for hours.

Lydia sighs and thinks that it's just like her mother to nag her about being home at a reasonable time, only to not follow her own advice.

Now that she's in the familiarity of her own house, she feels a lot calmer than she did on the drive over. Her bag is heavy as she carries it upstairs to her room, intent on making a start on the ludicrous amount of homework her teachers had given her. She doesn't know why they bother, since she's more than proved herself capable. She figures she would pass every test they could throw at her with flying colours without doing any of the prep work. Even so, to stay on their good sides, she ploughs through as much of it as she can that night before turning in, brushing her teeth and tying her hair up before climbing into bed.

The feeling of being watched returns as she lies there in the dark and, glancing at the window, she frowns when she notices that the curtains are drawn back, revealing the dark night sky. There aren't any stars or clouds. She turns her back to it and closes her eyes, trying to ignore the itching of her skin and the restless beating her of heart.

* * *

It takes Stiles' brain a few seconds to catch up and realise that he knows their new companion. Holly Thomas looks so different from the last time he saw her that he didn't immediately recognise her. The burns and scars on her face are almost nonexistent and her skin looks near-smooth, flushed with a healthy-looking tan. Her blonde hair falls in waves almost to her waist. "Oh my God..." he breathes, continuing to stare dumbly even when the woman raises an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction. "Wha-...how? How is this possible?"

Glancing sideways at Derek, Stiles sees that the alpha is also in a similar state of disbelief. As far as he knew, what Landon did to Holly was supposed to have made her disabled for the rest of her life, yet here she stands.

"It's quite simple, really," Holly says, closing the gap between them all and hugging Deaton briefly, greeting her old friend. "When you took out Landon, the binding spell he used on me died along with him. After that, I was finally able to access my magic again and use it to heal myself. There's still a little bit of work left to go," she gestures to the last couple of burns on her face, "but it shouldn't take me too long."

"Did you bring what I asked?" Deaton asks Stiles eventually, after the clearing remains silent. He holds out his hand when the teen nods and takes his bag back from Derek, rifling through its contents and pulling out an old book. He takes it from Stiles and sets it on the Nemeton, opening it and flipping to the required pages. "Now...the first thing I want you to understand is that what we're going to be teaching you isn't easy. It'll probably take several sessions for you to grasp it and even longer until you master it." From his own bag he pulls out several tall pillar candles and a series of small jars containing strange herbs. "Stiles? Would you care to do the honours?"

Stepping forward tentatively, Stiles walks up to stand next to Deaton and calls on his powers. It's been quite some time since he used them last, so he doesn't see results immediately.

He makes sure that Holly remains in his field of vision the entire time. Even though the woman seemed reasonably nice when he and Derek visited her and her sister, Maria, in Oak Grove, Oregon, all those months ago, he doesn't know enough about her just yet to trust her fully, even if she does have Deaton's vote of confidence. Refocusing, the corner of his mouth twitches upward slightly when the first wick ignites under his fingertip. He lights the remaining candles one by one until they're all burning in a neat circle around the edge of the large tree stump. It creates quite a mystical atmosphere.

When Deaton signals for him to step away again, Stiles turns, intent on heading back to stand next to Derek. He frowns in confusion when he finds no sign of the alpha. "Derek?" he calls confusedly, his eyes flitting around the clearing in search of his mate.

"Up here."

Stiles jumps when Derek responds and, looking up to where the man's voice came from, he sees the alpha perched on a thick branch in one of the trees. He tilts his head to the side when their eyes meet, wondering what possible reason his mate could have for sitting so high up off of the ground. "What the hell are you doing all the way up there?" he asks, narrowing his eyes when Derek smirks down at him, obviously amused.

Derek gestures around the clearing before shuffling back until he leans against the trunk, his legs hanging down on either side of the branch. "I wanted a good view," he explains simply, his smirk turning into a grin when Stiles just huffs up at him and turns away again. He very much enjoys winding the teen up and loves that it's turned into something of a game between the two of them, a constant back and forth to see who can annoy the other the most.

Luckily, they both seem to know each other's boundaries and it never gets out of hand or goes too far.

Moving back over to stand near Deaton and Holly, Stiles watches the pair work with fascination as they crush several of the herbs with a mortar and pestle, adding some water until it all forms into a fine paste. He still doesn't recognise any of the ingredients, though he supposes it shouldn't surprise him since he and Deaton have only just begun to go through all the different types there are in the world. When Deaton beckons him closer, he steps forward slowly, afraid that he'll have to eat whatever his two mentors have concocted. Fortunately for his stomach, when he gets close enough, Deaton just dips his fingers in the paste and draws several lines of the stuff across his face, three on his forehead and two on each cheek. It tingles strangely as it starts to dry on his skin. "Is it supposed to feel so weird?" he asks, fighting the urge to scratch at it or wipe it all off entirely.

"It's supposed to itch a little, if that's what you mean," Deaton explains, packing away most of the equipment again now that he has no more use for it. "OK... You'll need to climb up and sit in the very centre of the Nemeton." He pauses and looks back in confusion when Stiles doesn't immediately move to get into position. "What's wrong?"

Stiles steps forward slowly, reluctant to put himself in close proximity to the Nemeton. "Is it really necessary for me to get up there?" he asks eventually, his voice coming out a little whiny. "It's just...I don't exactly have fond memories of this place, considering a bunch of us almost died here not even a year ago..."

"I'm afraid so, Stiles," Deaton says calmly, hoping that his relaxed demeanour will help make the teen feel more at ease. "You'll need the Nemeton's help to tap into your full powers, at least for the first few times. Even then, it'll still be extraordinarily difficult to accomplish." He waits until Stiles gets into position before continuing, guiding the teen so that his hands rest palms-down on his knees, his legs crossed. "What you're about to do is different for everybody, so I'm afraid I cannot give you a heads-up on whatever it is you'll experience. Odds are nothing at all will happen, but be prepared just in case. The magic you're working is often unpredictable and can seem frightening at first. There are many different types of magic in the world and every person will be able to wield them in different ways. Most people who have this power running through their veins will only be able to master one or two of these different types in their lifetimes, leaving the rest to be relatively weak.

"It's a very rare thing to find somebody who can do more than that. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and hold it. Try to empty your mind of everything but the sound of my voice. Now, breathe out. Keep doing that until you begin to feel something building in your fingertips."

Stiles follows Deaton's instructions as best he can, continuing to simply breathe for several long minutes.

It's incredibly difficult for him to keep his mind so focused on one task, since it's normally so cluttered with endless thoughts. The preserve seems to have gone completely still around him and he can hear nothing but his own breathing and the pumping of his blood in his ears. The smells of the forest seem to become richer, growing more intense until it gets to be too much and he has to break his concentration and cover his nose with his hand.

Blinking open his eyes, Stiles gasps when he finds himself alone in the clearing. Not even Derek is up in the tree anymore. Darkness seems to have fallen suddenly, the candles around him providing the only source of light in the area.

He makes to stand and begins to panic when, once he's at his full height again, he finds he cannot move his feet from the stump on which he stands. "What the hell is happening...?" he whispers, trying and failing to get himself to move. It's as if the soles of his shoes are glued to the wood. His efforts are brought to a halt when he hears a twig snap a short distance away, the sound seeming louder than it should because everything else is so silent. He freezes in place, listening attentively to the sound of approaching footsteps. They're incredibly light, almost inaudible in their softness. Holding his breath and turning his head slowly, he peers behind himself and frowns when he finds that he's still alone. "Hello?" he calls, unable to decide whether he actually wants to receive an answer to his question or not.

After staring off into the distance yields no results, he tries again to unstick his feet, his eyes widening when he finds success this time. He nearly stumbles sideways off of the Nemeton in his surprise and, as it is, he knocks a couple of candles to the ground, extinguishing their small flames. He jumps when a voice speaks to him, right next to his ear.

"You should be more careful. Wouldn't want to burn the whole preserve down now, would we?"

Yelling in shock, Stiles leaps sideways and grunts when he connects painfully with the ground. He groans when he pushes himself up again, rubbing at his forehead as he waits for his eyes to refocus. When he glances back up at the Nemeton, his heart skips in his chest when he finds two doubles of himself standing above him. Terror begins flooding his system when he realises that he recognises one of them, its emaciated body and its dark, menacing eyes promising nothing but chaos and death. The other double looks exactly like he does now, right down to his clothes and the herbs smeared across his face.

"You're not real..." Stiles breathes out, cursing Deaton for sending him wherever he is without giving him more time to understand what he'd possibly find on the other side. As far as he knows, what he's seeing is a figment of his imagination, but because of his untapped magic, he can't be sure. He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears his darker double speaking to him again.

"Right you are. I'm not real. At least...not yet," it says, hopping down gracefully from the Nemeton and walking leisurely over to stand next to Stiles.

Crawling away as fast as he can, Stiles swallows nervously when his back hits a tree. He feels confused and is just wondering why his double hasn't made an attempt to attack him yet when he sees something else move on the other side of the clearing. Allison comes tumbling out from between two trees, tripping up over her own feet, her palms pressed tightly to her eyes. Her clothes look torn up and there are several scratches and bruises on her bare arms and legs. Both of Stiles' doubles track his movement as he gets to his feet and circles around them to get to Allison. He frowns when he tries to reach out and touch her, his hand going right through her arm as if she's not really there, which, he supposes she isn't. Still, he figures it can't hurt to see if he can get her attention anyway as he's apparently able to communicate with his doubles.

"Allison?" he calls cautiously, wondering why it is that the girl has her hands covering her eyes. It can't be because of anything good, especially now that he's close enough to see the trails of tears running steadily down her cheeks. "Can you hear me?"

Stiles gasps when Allison lowers her hands and looks around the place wildly.

All he sees is white, not a trace of pupil or iris in either of her wide, wet eyes. He recoils when Allison yells, "Why can't I see anything?!" before stumbling away again, tripping and falling to her knees when she reaches the Nemeton. He follows her warily, very much conscious of the fact that his two doubles are still watching him eerily. When something cold touches his cheek, he reaches up a hand and rubs across his skin, a little surprised to find that there's no trace of whatever Deaton had smeared across it earlier.

Instead, his hand comes away wet with what looks like water. Blinking up at the sky, his mouth falls open when he sees it's full of clouds, from all of which snow begins falling heavily. He wonders whether it's winter wherever he is.

"Nope, wrong. Try again."

Narrowing his eyes at his darker double, Stiles steps back from Allison and accepts that he can do nothing for her, especially since it seems she's not even aware of his presence. He's about to ask his double what it means when a fifth person joins their growing group in the clearing. Derek appears next to him, almost as if he shot right up out of the ground. He certainly didn't hear the alpha approaching.

Derek is naked, his body covered in a disgusting clear slime that smells faintly of something Stiles knows but can't put a name to. The alpha's eyes look unfocused, flashing back and forth between their natural hazel colour and the red that signifies his alpha status. Sweat beads quickly on his forehead, running down his neck and onto his chest, which heaves with great, laboured breaths. Stiles has never seen the man look so ill, not even when Kate Argent shot him in the arm with a wolfsbane-laced bullet. When he reaches out, trying to see if his hand will just pass right through his mate like it did with Allison, Derek suddenly snarls at him and lunges forward, fangs and claws bared. He flails backward, a startled yelp escaping his mouth when he lands painfully on his hip on one of the Nemeton's thick roots.

Looking up frantically, Stiles whips his head around when he sees that he appears to be alone in the clearing once more. He winces as he pushes himself up, leaning against the stump when his hip protests the movement.

"What the hell was that...?" he asks pointlessly, swallowing nervously as he readies himself for whatever else might show up.

A flash of red appears between two of the trees, catching Stiles' attention. His whole body tenses in preparation to run. As it is, he only manages to stumble backward a couple of steps before falling on his ass again when another person appears in the clearing. His mouth drops open when he sees their face. "Landon...?" he whispers, his eyes wide and his heart beginning to beat faster in his chest before he notices that something seems off about the man.

For one thing, his hair isn't bleached white and there aren't any scars running along his face or arms. For another, the last time he saw his old tormentor, he burned him to death. The person in front of him isn't burned in the slightest, though a large patch of red does stain his shirt and the top of his jeans. Finally, the man's face seems kind, a far cry from the malice that always contorted Landon's own hideously. _So this is Jeremy_ , he thinks, unable to quite believe how much Derek's other uncle looks just like him, even though they're not related by blood. He figures that it must be the beard.

"This could get very dangerous for you, Stiles," Jeremy says, his face growing serious. "She couldn't come and see you herself, but your mother gave me a message to pass onto you: 'The power you inherited has the potential to destroy you. You have to be careful'."

Stiles gasps when Jeremy's voice changes into his mom's as he relays her message. It's been years since he's heard it, so long that he'd almost begun to forget what it sounded like.

Before he can even try to comprehend when the man was saying, Jeremy disappears as quick as he'd come. Stiles is left staring at the space the older man had occupied, still gaping dumbly. He jumps when he feels phantom hands wrap around his biceps, squeezing roughly. Another voice calls to him, sounding far away. The next time he blinks, he finds himself back in the clearing under the sun's rays, the worried faces of Derek, Holly and Deaton looking right back at him. The grip on his arms loosens as Derek sighs in relief, the man's warm breath blowing across his face.

"Finally... I was starting to worry that we wouldn't get you back," Derek whispers from where he's crouched in front of Stiles. He pulls the teen to his feet and leads him to the edge of the Nemeton and back off onto solid ground.

Taking a tissue from his jacket pocket, he makes a start at cleaning his mate's face of Deaton's concoction, his worry beginning to fade away again now that Stiles has snapped out of whatever trance he was in. At first, he'd simply been confused when the teen had gone completely still, his breathing and heart rate sedate in their pace. It was such a contrast to Stiles' usual demeanour that he couldn't help but hop down from his spot up in his tree to investigate. Deaton and Holly had shared his concerns, but both warned him against interfering, trying to convince him to just let Stiles see it through and come back to them on his own time. For a while, he'd alternated between shifting restlessly from foot to foot and pacing in large circles around the clearing.

After half an hour, however, when the teen's breathing hitched suddenly and his heart skipped, he'd made a beeline for his mate, ignoring Deaton's hurried words of caution and hopping up next to Stiles on the Nemeton to wake the teen up himself.

When the last of the mess is gone from Stiles' skin, Derek tosses the tissue aside and pulls the teen into his arms when he sees panic is still tightening his features. He turns to look at Deaton. "What the hell was that?! I thought you said he wouldn't be able to do anything the first few times?" His tone is sharp, the beginnings of anger building in his gut.

He's mad at the veterinarian for putting his mate in what he thinks now was a dangerous situation.

Deaton holds his palms out toward Derek placatingly, keeping his own voice calm and soothing to try and defuse the tense situation. "I don't know what that was. He shouldn't have been able to reach such a state without some serious practice beforehand..." he trails off, his eyes flicking down to what little he can see of Stiles' face. Most of it is hidden by Derek's shoulder and arm.

Eyeing Deaton warily, Derek refocuses on the shaking body in his arms, shushing Stiles when he hears a quiet whimper escape the teen's lips. He wonders what it is his mate could possibly have seen or experienced to send him back into such a fragile and vulnerable state and knows that he'll willingly share the burden whenever Stiles appears ready to talk about it. He rubs his left hand up and down the teen's back and runs the fingers of his right through his hair, muttering nonsensical assurances in his ear the entire time. Eventually, Stiles pulls away from him and runs his hands down his face tiredly, his whole body seeming to sag with exhaustion.

The sound of whispering reaches his ears and, after checking to make sure that Stiles will be OK for a minute, Derek steps around the teen until he stands in front of Deaton and Holly, glaring daggers at the pair of them with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Explain," he bites out tersely.

"It seems that Stiles has more power at his disposal than either of us anticipated," Holly begins, a hint of awe in her tone. She glances behind herself when she hears movement and sees that Deaton has begun to clear up all of the candles still sitting on the Nemeton, blowing out each of the flames in turn. "I've never seen or heard of anybody reaching that level of meditation on their first try before... He has a gift, that's for sure. He may even be able to master all the different types of magic if he tries, and that hasn't been done since the beginning of the last century."

Derek is left speechless by this information. He's unable to comprehend the magnitude of what he's hearing, but at the very least, he's even more relieved now than he was before that Landon didn't manage to get his greedy hands on Stiles' power. Who knows what kind of destruction his late uncle could have caused with it all.

"Whatever. Are we done for the day?" he asks, not really caring if either of the other two say 'no'.

"Yes, I suppose we are," Deaton replies, slinging his bag over his shoulder and smoothing down his coat. He looks briefly at Stiles before flicking his eyes back over to meet Derek's impatient ones. "I'll need to see Stiles slightly earlier than usual at our next session at the end of the week so we can go over everything he saw."

Nodding politely, Derek stuffs the book Stiles had brought with him back inside of his backpack and walks over to the teen. He wraps his free arm around his mate's shoulders and guides him through the trees, heading in the direction of his car, intent on taking him home immediately so he can rest. The return trip seems to take longer because of their slower pace, the sun falling above their heads the entire time. He glances sideways when he hears Stiles sigh, taking in the way the teen has his head tilted down, his chin almost touching his chest as he just stares at his feet instead of looking at where they're going. "You OK?" he asks, frowning in concern when Stiles just nods in return instead of opening his mouth.

The fact that his mate isn't his usual verbose self worries him immensely, since every time it's happened in the past, it's usually been caused by some great emotional distress. He's relieved when the Camaro finally comes into view, theorising that being back home, possibly snuggled up on their bed beneath the blankets, will go a long way to making Stiles feel alright again.

As Derek drives them back to the house, Stiles stares out of the window as he thinks over everything he saw in his vision, if that's what it even was.

None of it makes sense to him and he wonders if any of it was even real. It was one shock after another and he thinks that it was just typical that the worst one would come last and hit him right where it hurts, so close to home. When they reach their destination, his body runs on autopilot as Derek guides him inside and ushers him immediately up the stairs. There isn't another pack member in sight, a realisation for which he is incredibly grateful since he doesn't think either of them would make the best company. He doesn't bother to put up any protests, the whole ordeal having really left him feeling worn out. All of his muscles seem to ache and it was enough of a struggle walking through the preserve without wincing with every step.

Derek guides Stiles into their bedroom and over to the bed, pushing on his shoulders to get him to sit down on the edge of the mattress. He's starting to think that perhaps the teen delving deeper and deeper into the world of magic might not be such a good thing.

Sure, on the one hand, it means Stiles will be able to defend himself and the rest of the pack a lot more easily, which will no doubt prove to be a necessity given their track record with enemies trying to kill them nearly constantly. On the other hand, however, the fact that one small meditative session seems to have shocked his mate to the core gives Derek major reservations. He avoids bringing the subject up just yet, though, wanting to wait until Stiles is in a better headspace. Instead, he strips off the teen's shirt, not missing the way his mate's face tenses up slightly when he lifts his arms above his head. He narrows his eyes, a little upset that Stiles would try and hide from him that he's in any sort of pain.

"What's wrong?" he asks, letting a little bit of his alpha authority bleed into his voice to let the teen know he means business and won't allow the question to be dismissed.

Rolling his eyes when Derek crouches down in front of him and begins removing his shoes like he's a preschooler, Stiles bats away the alpha's hands when they reach for the zipper of his red chinos. "It's nothing, really," he begins, quickly giving up on hiding his discomfiture when Derek just stares at him, one unimpressed eyebrow raised. "Alright, fine! If you _really_ wanna know that bad, I might be a little sore after whatever it was that happened earlier. Like, everywhere."

He lifts his hips off of the bed and slides his chinos down his legs before kicking them off. They fall in a heap a few feet away, leaving him in just his underwear.

Making a noise of understanding, Derek stands again and heads into the bathroom without saying another word. After turning on the light, he immediately turns the hot tap and checks the water temperature as it fills the bath. He doesn't really like using it unless Stiles insists on it, but since he's feeling generous and because the teen's muscles ache, he pours a liberal amount of bubble bath in the water.

Derek watches as it begins spreading and forming into the froth that Stiles loves to use to mould his hair into a multitude of ridiculous styles. When he sees that the bath is almost filled to the right height, he shrugs out of his jacket and strips off his own shirt as he walks back into the bedroom to fetch his mate. "C'mon," he says gently, helping Stiles stand up since his legs seem to have grown shaky. Soon enough, he sits in the water with his back pressed against the end of the tub, his mate fitted comfortably between his legs. "Hopefully the hot water will help."

"You're the best mate ever and I love you so damn much..." Stiles mutters as he leans back into Derek's body, flopping his down on the alpha's broad shoulder. He hears the man snort next to his ear. "I'm sorry if I worried you."

Derek doesn't respond verbally, settling instead for pressing a small kiss to Stiles' cheek and wrapping his arms around the teen's torso as best he can in the confines of the tub. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, humming his acceptance when Stiles just shakes his head in response. "OK...I'll wait, but not for long. I don't want you keeping whatever it is you experienced to yourself so much that it brings you down again. I want to see you as happy as possible all the time."

"Hmm, my Sourwolf giving me advice on not keeping things bottled up? Who'd have thought we'd ever see this day?" Stiles says cheekily, the hot water doing exactly what Derek had hoped it would.

His shoulders and neck are still slightly sore since they're not submerged, but he figures he can deal with it, until Derek nips playfully on his earlobe and makes him jump, that is. His elbow shoots sideways, out of his control, and ends up bashing jarringly against the side of the tub. He hisses as pain shoots up his arm. "Son of a bitch!" he shouts, his voice echoing off the tiled walls. He's grateful when Derek grabs a hold of his flailing limbs, preventing him from injuring himself any further. When the throbbing of his elbow suddenly seems to dissipate entirely, he peers down curiously and sees black veins crawling up Derek's arm, telling him that the alpha is absorbing his pain. _The pros of being in a relationship with a werewolf_ , he muses, the pain relief making him feel a little lightheaded. He can't relax back into the warm body behind him, though, his bout of clumsiness making his shoulders tense up even more.

Derek thankfully appears to realise what's wrong this time without having to ask, and Stiles lets himself be nudged forward slightly until they're not sat so close together. His eyes slip closed when the alpha begins rubbing and massaging the muscles with surprisingly skilled hands. "And you were wondering why I was admiring your hands this morning... They're magic, I swear."

His words end in a moan when Derek finds a particularly tight knot in his upper back and begins coaxing it to loosen.

"I really have no idea what I'm doing, but thanks, I guess," Derek replies, continuing to work and frowning when he keeps finding knot after knot in Stiles' back. He wonders how the teen kept it hidden from him for so long and makes a mental note to smack him upside the head for it when he's feeling better. He ignores the fact that his cock has taken interest in the noises coming from Stiles' mouth, knowing that the teen isn't really in a good place for them to make love in that moment, neither mentally nor physically.

Stiles arches his back when Derek's hands travel lower, working out all of the various kinks that have made themselves home there. "Well...if that architecture thing doesn't work out, you should seriously consider becoming a masseur," he suggests as he wiggles in place slightly, his ass having gone a little numb from being sat still for so long. The movement causes him to shuffle backward a little bit and his eyes snap open when he feels something nudge against the small of his back. "I take it you're enjoying this, too, then, unless the thing that's poking me isn't what I think it is?"

He chuckles when Derek just huffs exasperatedly, the sharp puff of breath blowing against his wet neck and making him shiver as it turns cold.

"How do you expect me to react when you keep moaning like that?" Derek asks defensively, glaring at the back of Stiles' head when the teen laughs at his expense. He lets his mate's reaction go without comment, figuring that if embarrassing himself cheers Stiles up, then he'll gladly do it.

Looking down at his hands, Stiles pouts to himself when he sees that his fingers are beginning to prune. The water has also started to cool, telling him that it's probably time to bring their little bath to an end. He reaches forward and pulls the plug out, feeling Derek's hands come to a stop as he watches the water flow down the drain, the alpha leaving them resting on his shoulders. "Thanks for this," he says, turning to look back at the man and offering him a small, grateful smile. He doesn't look for too long, though, wanting to avoid the stirrings in his groin that seeing his mate all naked and wet will no doubt bring forth. Instead, he gets up and steps out onto the tiled floor, grabbing a fluffy, white towel from where it hangs on the rail that is screwed to the wall about a foot away.

He begins drying his hair when he hears Derek follow him out of the bathtub, seeing the man's arm reach around to grab his own towel out of the corner of his eye. When he's all dry, he walks through to the bedroom and fishes out a clean pair of boxer-briefs from the dresser, slipping them on quickly before flopping down onto the bed, kicking the covers back so that he can slide snugly beneath them.

Derek joins him shortly after he gets comfortable, the alpha bypassing the dresser and just cuddling up to him completely naked.

The sheets end up pulled up to their waists.

With Derek lying on his back, Stiles shuffles up close to his side and rests his head atop the alpha's strong chest, sighing in contentment when his mate wraps his right arm around his back to keep him close. Now that he doesn't really have anything else to focus on to keep his mind distracted, he finds himself again thinking about everything he saw a couple of hours previous. He can hear Derek's heart beat beneath his ear as he lays his right hand on one of the man's pectorals and runs his fingers through his chest hair.

After a few seconds, Stiles finds the courage to open his mouth and finally confide in his mate. "I saw Jeremy," he says quietly, wincing when he feels Derek immediately tense up at his words.

Derek's breath hitches as he looks down at the top of Stiles' head, frowning when the teen doesn't look back up at him so their eyes meet. He tries to calm himself down again when he detects a large amount of nervousness souring Stiles' scent, pressing his lips to his mate's hair and mumbling into the soft strands. "You mean earlier, at the Nemeton?" he asks, keeping his voice hushed as he stares at the opposite wall.

Stiles nods into Derek's chest, his hand coming to a stop in front of his face. He notices that the alpha isn't wearing his triskelion necklace, which seems strange since the man is hardly ever seen without it around his neck. He guesses Derek must've taken it off for their bath. A small smile forms on his lips when his mate's hand comes up to cover his, offering comfort and reassurance. "Yeah..." he begins, his breath disturbing the chest hairs he has trapped between his fingers. "It was the weirdest thing. One minute, I was sitting with my eyes closed, just listening to Deaton talk, and the next... I opened them and there was no one around. The candles were still there, but everything else was dark. The next thing I knew, there were two other people standing right next to me, and they both looked exactly like me.

"One of them did, anyway. The other one looked like I did back when I was possessed by the Nogitsune. I looked so skinny and just...evil."

Derek's hand squeezes around Stiles', the alpha obviously knowing how difficult it must have been to see himself like that again. He still has the occasional nightmare about it all, though they're thankfully pretty rare. "Anyway, Allison showed up next. She was crying and I tried to reach out and touch her to see what was wrong, but I couldn't; my hand just went right through her. Then she moved her hands away from her face and her eyes were completely white. She was blind."

As he listens to Stiles' explanation, Derek can't help but think that what he's hearing sounds like a living nightmare. He rubs his right hand up and down the teen's back when he pauses, signalling that it's alright to keep going.

"Then you showed up. You were covered in this weird slime and you looked...feral," Stiles continues, finding it difficult to shut himself up now that he's begun spilling. He figures it's probably a good thing to get it all out anyway. Being surrounded by Derek's incredibly comforting scent helps him to keep going. "You tried to attack me, but I jumped out of the way, and when I looked up after falling on my ass, I was alone again. That's when Jeremy appeared. I didn't immediately realise it was him. At first I thought it was Landon, but then I saw that his hair was different and he didn't have any scars. Seriously, twins are confusing.

"That's when he gave me the warning from my mom. She said the power I have is dangerous and that I have to be careful. I don't know what the hell that's supposed to mean."

Derek's hand falters in its caressing when he hears that the version of himself in Stiles' vision had tried to attack him. "You know I would never try to hurt you, right?" he can't help but ask, needing to know that Stiles knows that. His heart unclenches slightly in his chest when the teen nods his assent, relieved. "As for the warning... I'm afraid I don't know what it means either. Hopefully Deaton will have some answers when we see him on Saturday." He swallows tightly in preparation for what he's about to say next, knowing that his words probably won't be received very well. "Maybe it would be a good idea to take a break from your training for a while, at least until we figure out what's going on." As he was expecting, Stiles pushes himself up and peers down at him, a deep frown on his face. "I wouldn't have suggested it before today, but you just seemed so shaken up earlier. It worried me."

His disapproving expression morphing into one of fondness, Stiles pats Derek's chest a couple of times before resting his chin on his hand so that he can see the man's face. "I appreciate that, I really do, but I'm not just going to give this all up so easily," he explains, willing his mate to understand. "Besides, I don't think it'll happen like that again, and if it does, I'll be better prepared for it this time. It was jarring, don't get me wrong, but I think the reason it hit me so hard was because it was so unexpected."

"Alright..." Derek accepts grudgingly, rolling his eyes when Stiles grins up at him.

He hates how easily his mate is able to bring him around to his way of thinking. He figures that's just what he gets for tying himself to someone so tenacious and adorable, the fact that he has no backbone anymore when it comes to Stiles. "But I'm going to be coming to every session to make sure you don't get hurt."

"Aren't you just the sweetest?" Stiles teases, moving forward and bringing their lips together. He kisses Derek with all of the love he feels for the man, his mouth opening on a sigh and their tongues sliding together sensually. Derek's hands end up tangling in his hair, pulling on it lightly to angle his head into a more accessible position. He holds himself up with his left arm, resting it against the mattress and tangling his fingers in the sheets. With his right, he strokes his hand down Derek's chest until he reaches a nipple, circling his thumb around the nub until it's raised and taut. Derek whines into his mouth at the stimulation, and he smiles into the kiss because that's just the reaction he'd been looking for.

He frowns when the alpha pulls away, resting their foreheads together and moving one of his hands to sit atop his own, stopping his teasing of the man's nipple.

Derek keeps them both still as he tries to get a handle on his arousal. The sudden bout of passion confuses him, as he thought Stiles was too sore and tired, both physically and emotionally, to even think of doing anything vaguely sexual. The fact that he can smell how turned on the teen is, though, makes him second-guess himself. "Stiles, what are you doing?" he asks, resting his head back on the pillow so that he can see his mate's eyes. The smirk he gets in return just baffles him even further. "I figured you'd be too exhausted to do anything."

Shrugging, Stiles lets his smirk turn into something more predatory and is satisfied when Derek's face and neck flush red in response, his nostrils flaring. "I was," he begins, freeing his right hand from Derek's hold and continuing his exploration of the alpha's firm chest, "but that massage in the bath earlier really helped, and I feel a lot better now that I've told you about what was troubling me. So...I just want to show you my appreciation. You gonna lie back and let me?" He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites on it before swiping his tongue across the abused flesh, soothing the ache he left there.

It's a trick he's perfected since he and Derek got together, one he pulls out from time to time to get his way since he knows his mate is fascinated by his mouth. He's pleased when Derek nods his head and relaxes back into the mattress, shifting his arms so they rest at his sides to give him free reign.

Stiles wastes no time stripping out of his underwear, throwing the offending garment off to the side to land on the floor. He kicks the sheets back so that Derek is completely exposed before getting to his knees and straddling the alpha's waist. Planting his hands on either side of the older man's head, he bends down so their faces are inches apart. "Hi," he says cheekily, smiling when he feels Derek's hands move to grip his hips. He leans forward and kisses the tip of his mate's nose before nuzzling the underside of his jaw, smile back in place when the man tilts his head back, baring his neck to his ministrations.

The fact that Derek, a powerful alpha werewolf, will expose the most vulnerable part of his body to him so readily always does funny things to his insides.

Biting and sucking his way across Derek's neck, Stiles enjoys the way the man's stubble rasps across the skin of his face. He'll probably have some beard burn in interesting places the next day, but he supposes it'll be worth it. The constant rumbling building in his mate's chest vibrates against his own and he bites down particularly forcefully when he gets to Derek's Adam's apple, sucking on the bump as it jumps beneath his mouth. The small whine the action gets out of the alpha is like music to his ears.

When Derek's cock slots into the crack of his ass, Stiles moves back against it to tease the man a little bit before drawing up and away, slithering down his body until he sits comfortably between the alpha's spread legs.

Pre-come has already begun forming at the slit and he wastes no time wrapping his lips around the tip, his tongue sliding beneath the foreskin to collect more of the tasty treat. Wrapping his right hand around the shaft to stabilise it, his fingers tangling in the thick curls at the base, he runs his mouth along the side, getting the warm, silky-smooth skin sloppy and wet. Derek's hips raise off of the bed every time he pulls his mouth away, the alpha obviously wanting to chase after him. He does it deliberately a couple of times just to tease the man even further, but relents when he hears a particularly plaintive whine slip out of Derek's mouth.

Derek's fingers wind themselves in Stiles' hair, his mate grounding himself as he starts to bob his head up and down, taking more of the thick shaft into his mouth every time.

Unlike all the other times he's sucked Derek off in the past, when the head nudges against the back of his throat, he keeps going instead of pulling off, swallowing around the intrusion and suppressing his gag reflex until he's able to take in another couple of inches. He draws back for a second to get some more oxygen in his lungs before diving right back onto the beautiful cock throbbing in his hand. His eyes water and he almost chokes, but his fierce determination to pleasure his mate keeps him going until he takes the man all of the way, his nose buried in the dark curls of pubic hair at the base. He can only hold himself there for a couple of seconds before he has to retreat to breathe again, but he feels a deep sense of satisfaction at being able to fit Derek's impressive length fully in his mouth.

His throat feels a little bit sore already, giving him new respect for all of the women in the porn he used to watch back when he was a lonely, horny teenager, but it doesn't stop him from taking the alpha in all the way again.

The first time Stiles sinks down all the way on his cock, Derek's eyes snap open when he feels the tight heat of the teen's throat constrict around him. He can't believe that his mate has actually managed to deep-throat him, since no one has been able to in the past, but he guesses he shouldn't be surprised; Stiles had been more than vocal in the past, saying that he would succeed even if it killed him. The wet heat feels incredible around him and he has to focus so he doesn't give into his desire to buck up into it, choking the teen.

Stiles pulls off of Derek's cock completely one last time, his throat now protesting to the point where he supposes it's time to give it a rest.

Instead, he settles for using his right hand to work the inches he can't get in his mouth. With his left, he fondles Derek's heavy balls, rolling them in his palm and tugging on them lightly. The alpha seems to approve of this, if the way the noises he's making increase in their volume is anything to go by. Feeling adventurous, he lets one of his fingers slip further back until it ghosts along the hair-dusted crack of the man's ass, curling it so that it slips between the cheeks ever so slightly.

Derek parts his legs even wider at this, so Stiles keeps going, pressing further until the pad of his index finger brushes along the tight furl of muscle that is his mate's hole. He stares up at Derek's face as he works, noting the way his wolf's eyes are clenched shut in pleasure and his mouth is gaping as he sucks in huge lungfuls of air.

Wanting to get Derek to climax, Stiles takes his mouth off of the alpha's cock for a second and sucks on his finger, running his tongue around the digit to get it slick with saliva. Getting back in his previous position, he rubs around Derek's asshole a couple of times to coax it into relaxing. When he feels a slight give, he pushes forward and sinks in to the first knuckle, continuing to work his mate's cock in his mouth the entire time. He's shocked at how searing the heat of Derek's ass feels around his finger as he thrusts it back and forth a couple of times, going steadily deeper. The alpha's hips move along with him, alternating between pushing back on his finger and up into his mouth. They find a rhythm soon enough, and he knows Derek is close to coming when the man's fingers tighten in his hair, pulling just the right side of painful.

He'll have to add hair pulling to the list of new kinks he's discovered in the past year.

When he curls his finger up and grazes across Derek's prostate, Stiles feels the man's balls tighten, drawing up until they bump against his chin. His mate's whole body seems to vibrate in pleasure as his cock pulses in his mouth, a cry of his name escaping Derek's lips as his orgasm crests, shooting thick ropes of come across his tongue.

Stiles works frantically, not wanting to waste a single drop. It just keeps coming and he can't stop the odd bit slipping out around his lips to slide down Derek's thick cock, running over his fingers before getting stuck in the hairs at the base. Small tremors wrack the alpha's body as he rides out of the aftershocks, his hips twitching and his ass clenching down tight on Stiles' finger. He pulls off when Derek pushes weakly at his head, the man's cock slipping out of his mouth to lie lengthways along the cut of his hipbone, beginning to soften. He guesses that it grew too sensitive for such direct stimulation.

Now that Derek has been taken care of, Stiles realises just how hard his own cock is, the length rigid as it curves up toward his stomach.

He returns to his previous position and straddles Derek's waist, stripping himself quickly as he stares down into the glazed eyes of his mate. It doesn't take long for his own orgasm to wash over him, and he looks down and watches as he shoots all over the alpha's torso. Derek's nostrils flare as he breathes in the scent of his come, his eyes flashing red briefly before returning to their natural hazel colour.

When he comes down from his high, he admires his handiwork, using a hand to rub the white fluid into the tanned, hair-dusted skin of Derek's chest and stomach. "There," he says when he's done, smiling knowingly down at the alpha, "now _you_ smell like _me_."

Derek very much approves of this new turn of events. He reaches up and pulls Stiles down to lie beside him, immediately drawing him in and kissing him passionately. The taste of himself is still there on the teen's tongue and he sucks on the slick muscle demandingly, savouring every trace he can get. "You're amazing, you know that?" he asks when the kiss comes to an end. He cups a hand around Stiles' face and rubs across his cheekbone with his thumb, smiling at the way his compliment causes a faint blush to appear on the smooth skin there.

"Yeah, well...right back at'cha," Stiles replies, reaching down and dragging the sheets back up to cover their sweaty bodies. He tucks his face into Derek's neck and sighs contentedly when he feels the alpha begin to play with the hairs at his nape. He doesn't give into sleep immediately, wanting to bask as long as he can in the afterglow.

In the end, Derek's hand in his hair proves to be too soothing, and he's helpless to resist the pull of unconsciousness.


	4. Pack

_\- Friday, August 10th, 2012 -_

Nothing particularly interesting happens for the rest of the week. Stiles puts all of his worries in a box at the back of his mind and leaves them there, untouched, as he just focuses on the now. He's surprised to find that he and Charlie share quite a lot of classes together and they more often than not end up sat next to each other. The girl is still a little skittish, but she seems to be growing more and more comfortable as the days pass. Friday finds them split off from the rest of the pack during the lunch period, a rare occurrence for Stiles because he's sat with them consistently ever since they all grew closer after the Nogitsune. He and Charlie sit outside of the cafeteria instead, perched atop a wall with their lunch trays positioned side by side between their bodies.

No one else is around, so they both feel comfortable talking about more personal things without having to lower their voices. At first, Charlie was hesitant to say even the littlest thing about her family, but after Stiles had begun talking about his, the girl started to open up somewhat.

"You're kidding!" Charlie laughs, holding a hand over her mouth as she stares at Stiles in disbelief. The boy has been telling her about his and Scott's many adventures from when they were kids, the tales getting more and more recent. She can't comprehend the amount of mischief the pair used to get into. "You did _not_ sneak out in the middle of the night to look for a dead body!"

She has mixed emotions about this particular story. On the one hand, she's horrified that Stiles would go looking for something like that, while on the other, she's in awe of his brazenness.

"Swear to God," Stiles promises, taking a bite of his apple. He's just finished detailing how he'd convinced Scott to go out looking for a body after he overheard his dad talking on the phone with one of his deputies one night. He left out the part where it ended with him being thrust into the supernatural world, but he guesses it's a decent tale nevertheless from Charlie's reaction. He sees the girl shaking her head at him out of the corner of his eye and snorts. "Yeah, it wasn't one of my better ideas, I'll give you that. My dad caught us before we actually found anything. Well, he caught me, anyway. Scott managed to get away without being found out, the lucky bastard. I thought I was going to get grounded for the rest of my life when I saw how pissed off my dad looked, but he never actually gave me a punishment, strangely."

He frowns as he says this, having not realised it at the time. "Maybe he was in a really good mood the next day or something..."

Charlie nods her head in agreement, just going along with Stiles' theory seeing as the boy obviously knows his dad better than she does, having not met the man yet. "I take it from everything you've been telling me that you get into trouble a lot?" she guesses, tucking her flaming hair back behind her ears when the wind blows it out of place. "I could never even imagine doing some of the stuff you have!"

"I suppose you could say that," Stiles admits, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks as he tries to take another bite of his apple absentmindedly. When his teeth bite down on nothing, he looks down in confusion and finds that he's finished it.

Shrugging, he tosses the core into the bin that sits a couple of feet away. "I promise not to drag you down into my wicked ways, though, so don't worry about that. I haven't gotten up to any mischief of that calibre in quite a while. Lydia keeps me in line. Trust me when I tell you that you do _not_ want to get on the wrong side of that girl... She'll kill you with one look." Even though he's talking about the banshee's short fuse when it comes to putting up with any sort of silliness, his voice is still very fond, something that his companion seems to pick up on if the way her expression becomes speculative is anything to go by.

Biting her lip in contemplation, Charlie picks at her nails disinterestedly after she sees that she's already devoured all of her food. "Is there something going on between the two of you?" she asks, hastening to explain when Stiles' eyes widen in shock. "I only ask because I got the distinct impression on Monday that she and Jackson were together."

"God no!" Stiles chuckles, finishing the last of his water before tossing it to join his apple core in the bin. "I used to like her that way, don't get me wrong.

"She's a very attractive girl, so how could I not? I used to trail after her like a puppy. It's actually kind of embarrassing looking back on it now... She wouldn't give me the time of day, though. You see, back then she acted like an airhead who was only interested in money and popularity; her and Jackson have ruled this school for about as long as I can remember, really." He shakes his head as he remembers how much he thought Lydia used to waste her potential, having always seen beneath her façade to the real girl underneath. "It's only in the past couple of years that she's stopped pretending and started openly displaying what a smartass she is. We became good friends after I stopped chasing after her and realised that I never had a chance.

"After that, my feelings became much more platonic. What I said before still stands; she will destroy you if you give her reason to, but if you stay on her good side, she'll be one of the loyalest people you could ever ask to have in your life."

"You all seem like an odd group," Charlie muses, shuddering after another particularly strong gust of wind whips around them. "I don't see how most of you could've possibly become friends, you're all so different from each other. Like, there's a bunch of you from each of the stereotypical high school cliques; it's strange seeing everyone interact with each other like such good friends."

Stiles nods his head as he thinks over Charlie's words. He's thought them himself several times in the past before he learned to tune out the whispering of outside parties. The pack must look very odd to any regular person. Since he's unable to tell the girl of the real reasons they all began to grow closer to one another, he settles for what he hopes is a convincing lie. It's close enough to the truth that he wonders if he should even call it a lie to begin with. "We didn't used to be; it was only last year that we all started hanging out together. Before that, we basically all just did our own things. It was only when Derek came back to town that things started to change." He sees Charlie frown at the mention of the alpha and carries on with his explanation before she can ask. "He used to live here, but he moved away years ago when his house burned down. A couple of years ago, he just reappeared one day. He must've been lonely, because the next thing I know, he's got Isaac, Erica and Boyd under his proverbial wing.

"None of those three really had any friends, so I think they were in the same boat as him. Then me and Scott joined their little group, followed by Jackson and Lydia, and then Cora, his younger sister, came back to town as well. The rest, as they say, is history."

"I'm still not too clear on who Derek is..." Charlie says slowly, having barely managed to keep up with everything Stiles just told her.

The boy's words came out in such a rush that it was difficult for her to understand them. The tender expression that formed on Stiles' face when he talked of the man gives her some indication as to his identity, though. "Have I met him? I don't think I have." Having heard his name mentioned a couple of times by the others during the week, she was under the impression before now that Derek was just another one of their friends that she hasn't been introduced to yet. From Stiles' explanation, however, she guesses now that he's older than they are, at least by a year, since he's not in school.

Shaking his head, Stiles twists around and brings his legs up, sitting with them crossed on the wall instead. "No, you haven't actually met him yet, but I know you saw him when he picked me up after school on Monday," he says, resting his elbows on his knees. This reminds him that he'd wanted to ask the girl why she'd worn such a strange expression on her face after seeing him and his mate hugging.

"I waved to you, but you just got this weird look on your face and drove off. What was that all about?"

Charlie looks down at the ground, embarrassed. "Oh, yeah...sorry about that. It just caught me off-guard is all," she mutters, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Like I said before, I thought there was something going on between you and Lydia, so seeing you getting all up close and personal with a man that looks quite a bit older than you was a little...unexpected. How old _is_ he anyway?"

"He turned twenty-five at the start of the year," Stiles replies, already knowing where the conversation is heading. He still gets lots of strange and judgemental looks from the general public whenever he and Derek venture out around the town. It got to the point where he doesn't actually leave the house too much anymore; the only times he does nowadays are for school or to go grocery shopping to keep on top of all the food the betas eat. Making sure a pack of werewolves stay well-fed and happy is quite the demanding and expensive task. He remembers that his eyes had almost popped out of their sockets in shock like they do in cartoons when he'd seen how much everything came to on his first shopping run. Luckily, it's not as if Derek is hurting for money. "Why?"

Her eyes widening as she does a quick calculation in her head, Charlie is quick to explain her interest when she detects the hint of defensiveness in Stiles' tone.

"Wow, eight years? That's quite the age difference you've got going on there," she begins, keeping her own tone as affable as she can. "I don't have a problem with it, though, if that's what you're thinking; as long as you're happy, then that's all that matters, I suppose. Plus, from what I could see of him from across the lot, he looked pretty damn hot. Go you!" She punches the other teen lightly on his shoulder, pleased when Stiles' face relaxes and a small smile forms on his lips.

"He did seem quite...intimidating, though. You know, the flashy car, the leather jacket, the scowl and the beard. Maybe I'm just judging a book by its cover, but I'd probably shit my pants if I ever ran into a stranger that looks like him on the street."

Stiles laughs, reminiscing about the first few months he knew Derek, when the then-beta would just growl and shove him into walls to get him to follow his orders. They really have come a long way. "Yeah, I get that, but he's really not so bad once you get to know him. He's actually a big, cuddly teddy bear," he assures, fiddling with the long sleeve of his red flannel shirt as a shiver runs through him. He'll have to work out a way to punish Derek later for not letting him borrow the man's leather jacket that morning. Perhaps he'll withhold dessert. _Yeah, that'll work_ , he thinks, smirking to himself. When he sees Charlie staring at him in disbelief, he snaps himself out of his plotting. "Seriously, just trust me. He can be a bit standoffish when you first meet him, but he's a really good person beneath all of that."

"I'll take your word for it," Charlie says, smiling at the image Stiles' words have put in her head. "So, you're bisexual, then? 'Cause if you are, we should totally form a club or something. There isn't enough representation for us out there yet and a lot of people still look down on the concept and think it's not possible, that we're just greedy or looking for attention or something. It's so stupid..."

"Mmm, I wouldn't say I'm bisexual, no," Stiles says after a few seconds of contemplation. He remembers the times he used to constantly ask Danny whether the other boy found him attractive or not, but he's never really thought about why he did that. He thinks now that he was just keeping his options open, but no, Derek is still the only guy toward whom he feels any sort of sexual attraction. "I still like girls, and other guys don't really do anything for me. It's just Derek. So I guess you could say I'm...Derek-sexual."

He smiles when Charlie laughs at his explanation, thinking that the girl has blossomed quite a bit since her first day. She never would have laughed like that before, and it's still only when it's just the two of them that she seems to let her inhibitions go.

"Fair enough, fair enough..." Charlie accepts, her laughter tapering off. "So your dad's OK with you dating someone in their mid-twenties? I think my mom would have a heart attack if I told her I was involved with someone that much older than me! Your dad must be pretty cool."

Nodding his agreement, Stiles feels a pang of loss in his chest at the mention of his late father. "Yeah, he was..." he says quietly, looking away briefly to stare off at the trees in the distance. When he turns back, he sees the concerned and confused expression on Charlie's face and decides to explain. "He died back in January. I don't actually know what he thought of me and Derek, since we got together right before that and I hadn't told him yet. I think he'd have come around to the idea when he saw how happy Derek makes me, and I do know that he liked him well enough as a person before that. Melissa, Scott's mom, is my legal guardian now and she's fine with it.

"I swear, that woman is like a second mother to me, and she was even nice enough to let me move in with Derek after a while when she saw that he was the one who could help me with my grief the most."

Charlie's eyes widen considerably at the revelation that Stiles is living with his twenty-five-year-old boyfriend. "Wow... You two must really be serious," she says with wonder, hoping that she'll be able to find somebody she feels that sure about. "I'm sorry about your dad... I know what it's like to lose a parent and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. My dad went missing when I was nine. No one knows what happened to him, whether he was killed or if he just ran off or something. My mom thinks something bad happened to him, since none of his things went missing as well. I'm probably lucky to still have her, since she basically fell apart for years afterward. It was only recently that she got her shit together and started acting like a parent again. She moved us here for a fresh start."

This reminds Stiles of the months after his mother's death when his dad drowned himself in alcohol, leaving him to take care of the house and himself. It was only when he was about to buckle under the pressure that the man saw what his carelessness was doing.

His dad got back on his feet with Melissa's help. "I can relate. So...how've you been finding Beacon Hills so far? It been treating you well?" he asks, trying to lighten the mood. He doesn't want either of them to go back to class when the bell rings with sour moods, especially not since their next one is Chemistry with Ms. Adler. They both need to be on their game so they don't piss her off.

"It's been better than I expected, actually," Charlie replies thoughtfully, stacking their lunch trays on top of one other. "I still haven't seen most of it, but I actually think I like it better than my hometown so far."

"That's good. Maybe I can give you a tour one weekend, show you all the best places," Stiles offers, knowing that he'll be disappointing his pack by spending one of their days off away from them, but he supposes they'll just have to get over it. They can take care of themselves for one day, but he decides he'll be generous and cook them some food beforehand so they can heat it up if they get hungry. Being the alpha's mate really is like looking after a bunch of small children sometimes. The bell rings just as he finishes his planning, telling him that it's time to begin heading over to their next class. He carries both trays and dumps them with the others that are stacked just inside the cafeteria doors before leading the way.

Charlie thinks over Stiles' offer carefully as they walk, checking inside of her bag to make sure she remembered to bring the homework that is due that day. "I think that would be a good idea, actually. Thank you," she accepts as they take their stools. "I'll have to check with my mom before we do it, though. Since it's just the two of us now, she's gotten a bit overprotective and she'll no doubt have a problem if I just tell her I'm going out for the day with a boy she's never met.

"Maybe you could meet her first, so she sees there's nothing going on between us. That should put her mind at ease a little."

"Yeah, I guess I can do that," Stiles says, the thought just striking him now that Derek will probably want to accompany the two of them as well. He guesses that could be a good thing, as it would give Charlie a chance to see that the man isn't nearly as intimidating as he looks. It'll also serve as proof that he has no romantic interest in her daughter. Their conversation cuts off before he can say anything else when Ms. Adler walks into the room, bringing everybody's cheerful discussions to a halt with a single stern look.

* * *

When Stiles gets home, he finds the house is empty. He's confused for a second before remembering that Derek had a second interview for the job as an architect earlier in the day. It was supposed to end a couple of hours ago, so the alpha should arrive at any minute. To pass the time until he does, Stiles shuffles into the kitchen and cooks himself a quick grilled cheese sandwich. He moans as he bites into it, savouring it since it's not often he allows himself to consume something that full of cheese. After he takes his last bite and licks the crumbs off of his fingers, he looks around and realises how low they're running on groceries. Sighing, he heads upstairs to his bedroom to change his clothes, wanting to slip into something more comfortable if he's going to go shopping. He's just shrugged into his red hoodie when he hears the front door open, announcing Derek's return. Checking himself over in the mirror to make sure he looks alright, he races downstairs and greets the alpha where he stands just inside the foyer. "Hey, you!" he says happily, jumping on his mate's back and wrapping his arms and legs tightly around his muscled body in an accurate impression of a koala hugging a tree.

Derek doesn't so much as stumble when Stiles jumps on his back, having heard the teen's approach and prepared himself before the impact. He leans his portfolio next to the door and turns his head to the side, rolling his eyes when Stiles presses a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "You seem to be in a good mood," he observes, walking through to the living room and standing with his back to the sofa. He's pleased when Stiles takes the hint and untangles his limbs, dropping backward onto the cushions. He takes a seat next to the teen.

"Of course I am! It's the weekend," Stiles replies, smirking when Derek wipes away the wetness still on his cheek. "It was a good day, all in all. I actually managed to get through Chem without my teacher yelling at me, which was a first. We got put into pairs for some project that's supposed to be coming up soon. I got put with Charlie. I told you about her, right?" He waits until Derek nods his assent before continuing. "Anyway, we've been given a list of different things we can do and we have to decide which one will get us the best grade. It should be reasonably fun, I guess, as fun as school work can be." He slumps sideways so that he's pressed up against Derek's side, resting his head on the alpha's shoulder as he's pulled closer by a strong arm. "How about you? How'd your interview go?"

Leaning his head atop Stiles', Derek ignores the rumbling of his stomach as he stares at the blank television screen on the wall opposite. "I think it went really well, actually. They seemed impressed by my work and even though I won't actually be working around them much, all of the people there seemed to like me. I should hear back from them in a couple of days about whether I actually have the job or not. I hope I get it."

Stiles hears Derek's body announce his hunger again and pats the man's firm stomach a couple of times before getting up. "I'm happy to hear it. I know you'll do great!" he assures, going back into the kitchen to cook Derek something to eat as well. "We need to go shopping today, just so you know!" He speaks louder than normal to make sure the alpha hears him, even though the man is just in the other room with enhanced hearing. Old habits are hard to break, it seems. He rifles through the fridge for something he thinks Derek will enjoy, startling when he turns around to find that the man is stood right behind him. "Don't do that! You know I hate when you follow me silently. You could at least announce your presence before you give me a heart attack..." Slapping his mate on the arm, he holds up the leftover lasagna he'd chosen and shakes his head fondly when he just gets a short nod in return. "It'd probably be a good idea to go after you've eaten, especially seeing as the pack is going to be over here for the whole day tomorrow... They're bound to eat a lot, the animals, so we need to prepare for that."

When the microwave beeps, Derek takes the plate out and sits at the island to eat. He watches Stiles shuffle about the room, phone in hand as he takes stock of what they need to get. It takes the teen quite a while, so long in fact that by the time he's done eating, the boy still isn't finished. He leaves Stiles to it while he goes upstairs to get out of the suit he'd worn for his interview. He sighs in relief as he loosens the tie around his neck, wasting no time in practically ripping the dress shirt from his body and shoving his trousers down around his ankles. He steps out of them and kicks them aside, toward the pile of other dirty clothes that has formed in one of the corners. He doesn't know why they even bothered to buy a laundry hamper, since it never actually gets used. Shrugging to himself, he quickly dresses in a well-worn sweater and a simple pair of jeans before rejoining Stiles downstairs.

When he glances inside the kitchen, Derek is pleased to see that the teen appears to be finishing up compiling his list, so he retrieves his wallet and waits dutifully by the front door for his mate to be ready. Soon enough, Stiles is practically skipping outside and right over to his Jeep. Derek gets inside his own car and follows the teen when he pulls away. They soon learned after their first trip grocery shopping that both cars are necessary to carry everything back home, since they always end up buying so much. They're lucky enough to find two parking spaces next to each other relatively close to the entrance, and he grumbles halfheartedly when Stiles links their arms together and leads him inside. He's still not that comfortable with public displays of affection, but he puts up with them to keep his mate happy.

Each new section of the store they visit ends with them practically clearing out the shelves. Stiles grabs several litres of milk and packets of grated cheese in the dairy section. He requests an absurd amount of meat from the man behind the butcher's counter, already planning everything he can make with it all as he packs it inside of the cart. He got enough to last them a couple of weeks. At least, he hopes it'll last that long. He throws things in nearly constantly and checks the items off on his phone as he goes. It keeps going like that until the cart is filled to the brim and piling over, several boxes of each kind of Pop Tart on top of it all, since each member of the pack seems to prefer a different flavour. It's a bit precarious, but as long as Derek walks reasonably slowly, it doesn't prove to be a problem. He ends up carrying the bags of crisps since they won't fit.

As usual, when they get to the checkout line, the person behind the till looks at them both in horror because of the sheer amount they'll have to scan. While Stiles unloads everything onto the belt, Derek stands on the other end and bags it all after it's been scanned, heaving the bags into the cart when each one is filled. It's a system they've perfected. Derek doesn't even bother checking the total when everything's done, instead choosing to just insert his card in the reader and pay for it without worrying about it.

"Well...that was an adventure," Stiles comments as he leads the way out of the store, the cart Derek still pushes rattling along behind him. "You'd think all of the staff would've stopped looking so surprised by now, given how often we're in there." He opens the back of his Jeep and begins loading the shopping inside as Derek passes him each bag. He's able to make most of it fit in there and in the passenger seat, with the remainder getting shoved in the back seat of the Camaro. While the alpha takes the cart back to the bay with all of the others, he climbs in behind the wheel and takes out his phone, checking to see whether he's missed any messages. The corner of his mouth twitches when he sees that he has a new text from Charlie, the girl telling him that she's checked with her mother and that his plan to show her around town is still on. He responds and suggests they do it on the Saturday of the following week, his head shooting up in shock when someone knocks on his window.

Derek smirks as he turns away from Stiles' window, pleased with himself at having made the teen jump. He guesses his mate will get the message when he climbs into his own car and turns the keys in the ignition, pulling out of his space a few seconds later. Looking in his rearview mirror, he keeps going when he sees that Stiles is indeed following, driving back to their house.

It doesn't take long to pack everything away, though Stiles leaves out several things in preparation for cooking them dinner. He glances back over his shoulder and sees that Derek is just standing leaning against the door frame, watching him work. "You want to help or are you just gonna stand there like a creeper?" he asks cheekily, sticking his tongue out at the man when he gets an eye roll in response. Nevertheless, he's grateful when Derek acquiesces, stepping forward to stand next to him at the counter. "Right...you start slicing up these tomatoes while I get the pasta cooking, 'K?" He slides a couple of the red fruits over to sit in front of the alpha before taking a cutting board and a knife out of one of the cupboards and handing them over as well. He starts preparing a couple of chicken breasts himself, letting them marinade in a homemade sauce he had leftover in the fridge as he rips open a packet of spaghetti and fills a saucepan with as much as he guesses the two of them will eat.

"What are we making?" Derek asks as he works, his fingers getting covered in tomato juice as he slices into them and cuts them up into small pieces at Stiles' instruction.

"Chicken alfredo with a twist," Stiles replies, turning on the stove to get the water to boil. After that's done, he takes a frying pan and tips the chicken inside before beginning to cook that as well, putting on the top so that it cooks faster. When he sees that Derek has finished with the tomatoes, he takes over from the alpha and slides them into the saucepan with the chicken so they get hot and soften up. "Alright...now that's all going, we just have to wait." He sets a timer on his phone before dragging Derek through to the living room, pushing the man down on the sofa with a hand on his shoulder before stalking over to their rather substantial DVD collection and browsing through all of the titles for something that looks interesting. He decides to be merciful and pick something that he knows his mate will enjoy as well.

Twenty minutes into the first _Mission: Impossible_ , Stiles pauses it to go and check on the food. He smiles to himself when he finds that it's all ready and begins dishing it all up onto two plates. Derek's ends up piled with more food than his because of the alpha's larger appetite, and his mouth waters as he breathes in how delicious it smells. "Dinner is served!" he announces as he carries the plates through and sets them on the coffee table.

Derek doesn't quite manage to suppress his moan as he takes his first bite, the flavours that burst across his tongue like nothing he's ever tasted before. He tries to play it cool when Stiles raises an eyebrow in his direction, but he feels the tips of his ears turn pink anyway, giving him away. "Shut up..." he mutters, going back to his meal.

"I take it from that rather pornographic noise that you like it?" Stiles asks as he looks sideways at Derek, an impish smirk remaining on his face between mouthfuls. He can't resist teasing the man, thinking to himself that his mate looks rather adorable in his red sweater and old jeans with a pretty blush on his bearded face. To add to it all, he looks down and notices for the first time that the sweater Derek wears has thumbholes in the long sleeves. "Ugh, could you get any cuter?" He shakes his head to rid himself of the dirty thoughts that have started appearing there, not wanting to interrupt their downtime by jumping the man. They'll have plenty of time for that later, he tells himself, refocusing on the movie still playing on the television screen.

"I swear you get better at cooking every day," Derek compliments, tucking into his meal again with gusto. He chooses to ignore Stiles' comment. It's not long before he's scraping his fork across his plate to gather up the last of the sauce, looking down at it in disappointment when he realises he's finished it all. He looks longingly over at Stiles when he sees that the teen still has half of his food left, pouting when his mate looks back at him questioningly. Stiles must have noticed his prolonged silence. His solemn expression quickly turns into one of gratitude when Stiles rolls his eyes and swaps their plates, dutifully letting him finish off his food.

Stiles leans back into the cushions and crosses his arms. "You owe me, Mr.," he mutters, shaking his head fondly as he watches the last of his food be consumed in no time at all. He manages to hold onto his unimpressed and stern expression for all of three seconds when Derek looks up at him with wide, innocent-looking eyes, the man playing along seamlessly. In the end, he can't stop himself from laughing at the image Derek makes, a lone string of spaghetti hanging ridiculously out of the corner of his mouth. "Idiot..." He takes the alpha's plate when that, too, has been practically licked clean and stacks it atop the second on the coffee table before settling in to watch the rest of the movie. When he leans into Derek's side, he can't resist patting the man's stomach a couple of times with more force than necessary before shoving his hand beneath the hem of his sweater and rubbing across the hair-dusted abs he finds there. "You all full now?"

"Umm...yes?" Derek responds uncertainly. He looks down into Stiles' playful eyes, exasperated by the teen's antics. He swiftly removes his mate's hand from under his sweater and links their fingers together so he can keep himself safe from anymore of Stiles' wandering. "Now shut up and watch the movie."

"Yes, sir!" Stiles replies, really wishing he had a hand free so that he could mock salute. Deciding that it's not worth the effort, he snuggles up close to Derek and tucks his face into the man's neck. The position just lets him see the television screen, but even if it didn't he wouldn't care. He's seen the movie enough times that he can conjure up images of what happens in his mind if he just listens to the audio, so in the end he closes his eyes and just basks in the wonderful feeling of being alone with the man he loves. His contentment ramps up a couple of notches when Derek's hand finds its way into his hair, his fingers winding through the strands and his nails scratching soothingly across his scalp.

When the movie comes to an end, the credits beginning to roll, Derek looks down at Stiles and snorts when he sees that the teen appears to be falling asleep on him. "You look like you're ready for bed already," he comments, ceasing running his hand through Stiles' hair. He gets to his feet without warning, ignoring the squawk of protest that comes from his mate at the sudden movement.

Stiles goes sprawling across the sofa when Derek's warmth disappears in the blink of an eye, almost hitting his head on the armrest. He's able to save himself the headache, though, miraculously. "Ugh, why are you so mean?" he whines, drawing out the last word unnecessarily. He glares up at his mate for disturbing him. "And as for getting sleepy, I can't help it; you're just so comfortable and you smell super nice and it's been a long day..." He brings out his best puppy-dog eyes as he holds out one of his hands, trying to make himself look as pathetic as possible so that Derek will take pity on him. "Carry me? My legs are asleep." At the alpha's unimpressed look, he tries again. "Did I not just cook you a delicious meal? Don't I deserve some compensation for my hard, tireless efforts?"

"You're absolutely ridiculous..." Derek sighs, rubbing at his temples as if Stiles' request physically pains him. In the end, though, he's powerless to resist when the teen continues to stare up at him forlornly. He pulls Stiles up off of the sofa and promptly sweeps him up with an arm under his knees, snorting fondly when the teen snuggles as close as possible and begins petting him like a dog, muttering, "Who's a good boy?" in his ear. He growls playfully in response and begins making his way upstairs and into their bedroom. He kicks the door open gently and deposits his mate on their bed before retreating back downstairs to make sure everything is locked up and the lights are all switched off. When he gets back into their bedroom, he finds that Stiles has managed to get himself out of his clothes and from the faint scent of mint in the air, he guesses the teen has already been to the bathroom. Taking his own turn, he frowns at himself in the mirror when he notices that his beard is getting a bit long. He makes a mental note to trim it in the morning before relieving himself and joining Stiles in bed.

As with every night, as soon as Derek pulls the sheets up to their waists and turns off his bedside lamp, Stiles snuggles up his side and clings to him tightly with gangly limbs. The teen is out like a light almost immediately, snoring softly into his chest. The sound lulls him to sleep as well, and his last thought before succumbing is that he hopes he'll have the energy to deal with the entire pack all day when he wakes back up in the morning.

* * *

_\- Saturday, August 11th, 2012 -_

Stiles and Derek get a rather rude awakening a few hours later. Stiles has been drifting in and out of sleep for about half an hour when Isaac bursts in through the door and pounces on the bed, causing him to yell loudly in surprise and flail his way to sitting up. He doesn't immediately register what it was that woke him fully, but when his eyes land on Isaac perched at the foot of the bed, the curly-haired beta practically vibrating with excitement, he groans and flops back down next to Derek. A quick glance to the side reveals the alpha to be awake, too, his hazel eyes glaring grumpily back at him. Turning back to Isaac, he rubs at his eyes and is incredibly grateful that he didn't decide to sleep completely naked the night before. As comfortable as he's become with every member of the pack, he doesn't want any of them to see him in his birthday suit. He thinks he might just die of mortification if that were to ever happen.

"Why aren't you two up yet? It's already eight in the morning!" Isaac chirps from where he sits, his head tilting to the side in confusion when both Stiles and Derek just level him with equally annoyed looks. He's impatient to get the day started already, deeply looking forward to spending some quality time with his pack like they do most weekends. It's always the best part of his week, especially since Stiles usually lets him help cook dinner if he keeps everyone else from breaking anything.

"I'm just gonna ignore that you think eight o'clock is an acceptable time to get up on a Saturday..." Stiles mutters, reluctantly pushing himself up again and leaning on his elbow. "You should really knock before you come in here, Isaac. One of these days you're going to walk in on something you don't want to see and it's gonna be no one's fault but yours." A satisfied smirk appears on his face when his words cause the other teen to leap up from the bed, an expression of horror on his face as he runs out of the room again and slams the door shut behind himself with a shout of, "Gross!" thrown over his shoulder.

"That takes care of him..." Stiles mutters. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and, before Derek can get up, he throws himself sideways so that he lies on top of the alpha, keeping him in bed. "Nope, you're not allowed to get up yet! You still owe me my usual sleepy morning cuddles!"

Derek grunts when he finds himself pressed under Stiles' weight, sighing as he stares impassively down into the teen's mischievous eyes. "Needy..." he grumbles before relaxing back into the pillows, spreading his legs a little to allow his mate to fit more comfortably between them. He tucks his right hand behind his head and places his left on Stiles' shoulder. "Do you know what they're going to subject us to today?"

"Not really, no," Stiles replies, crossing his arms atop Derek's chest and resting his chin on them. "I know the guys were keen to get a game of something going in the back yard and I guess we'll be having our usual study session in the evening... Other than that, I have no idea what they're gonna get up to, so have fun wrangling them all while I hide in the kitchen." He chuckles when Derek narrows his eyes at him. "Hey, don't look at me like that! You're the one who thought it would be a good idea to turn a bunch of crazy teenagers into hyperactive werewolves. If you're lucky, I might be persuaded to bribe them into behaving themselves with promises of baked goods, but you'll have to make it worth my while."

"And just how would I go about doing that, hmm?" Derek asks with one eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk on his lips. He snorts when Stiles just waggles his own eyebrows at him suggestively in response. He's distracted from continuing their discussion any further when Jackson knocks on the door, the beta's voice echoing through the wood a second later.

"You two had better hurry the fuck up and put Isaac out of his misery before I kill him myself!"

Stiles sighs and buries his face in his arms. "Not if I kill you first, Jackson..." he says to himself, his voice muffled from where his mouth is pressed against his skin. While he'd still much rather stay in bed in the comfort of Derek's arms for at least a little while longer, he nevertheless levers himself up and swings his legs out from beneath the sheets, yawning and stretching his arms above his head before reluctantly getting to his feet. Padding through to the bathroom, he makes quick use of the facilities and gets ready for what promises to be another very long day. As soon as he's dressed in that day's chosen outfit, he pecks Derek on the lips when they pass each other before jogging down the stairs and following the pack's voices through to the living room. He finds the majority of them already gathered there. Only Scott, Allison and Kira are missing, which isn't unusual. The three are often the last ones to arrive anywhere. Everybody's heads turn to him as he enters the room, and he returns the happy smile Isaac sends him from the sofa next to Danny. "Alright! What's first on the agenda today, puppies?"

"Food!" Isaac chirps, getting up and almost dancing around Stiles' feet when the human teen nods and begins heading in the direction of the kitchen. He takes a seat around the island as Stiles gets to work, seemingly already knowing what every member of the pack would prefer to eat as he bustles about from cupboard to cupboard, pulling out bowls and various utensils as he goes. "None of us have eaten yet, just so you know."

"A big breakfast it is..." Stiles grouses halfheartedly, feeling in his element as he starts making everything he'll need. A ridiculous amount of bacon is cooked first, quickly being joined by eggs, sausages and baked beans, all for the boys. He sticks to something more simple for the girls, knowing that none of them will appreciate being given something with that many calories in it that early in the morning, especially not Lydia. He sticks a couple of slices of bread in the toaster for the redhead, figuring that she can choose what she wants on top of it herself to avoid wasting anything should she refuse what he picked for her. When he's almost finished preparing everything, he hears the front door open distantly and guesses that the last three pack members have finally deigned to grace them with their presence. He ropes Isaac into helping him carry all of the plates through to the dining room, telling him in which place to set each one down.

Derek's, of course, goes at the head of the table, with Stiles' own on the alpha's right side. Next to him is Lydia, followed by Jackson, Erica, Boyd, Allison, Scott, Kira, Cora and Danny, leaving Isaac to take up the other seat next to Derek. When everything is ready, Stiles calls through to the living room and braces himself as he immediately hears thundering footsteps approaching. Like he thought, Scott, Allison and Kira pull up the rear, and his eyes widen when he sees that the other boy is carrying some sort of net with him, attached to two long, white poles. "What the hell is that?" he asks, taking his seat next to Derek.

"We're going to play volleyball later, so...I brought the net," Scott explains, his matter-of-fact tone implying that he thinks the answer should've been obvious. He leans the poles against the wall just inside the door before looking around the table, finding that only one seat remains empty and guessing that must be his.

Breakfast is a surprisingly quiet affair, most of the pack ending up being too preoccupied stuffing their faces to make much conversation. Stiles stops them all when they make to leave the table, pointing at their plates with a stern expression on his face. He doesn't let up until they all bow their heads and clear their places, the sounds of excess food being scraped into the bin coming from the kitchen a few seconds later after they disappear around the doorframe. Soon enough, it's just him, Derek and Lydia left in the dining room, the three of them just finishing up since they'd eaten at a more sedate and reasonable pace. After he puts his and Derek's plates in the dishwasher with the others, Stiles looks out of the window and is dismayed to find that the pack is already out there setting up the first game. Before they can get started, he storms out of the back door. "You'd better not be thinking of playing anything before your food has a chance to settle," he yells, standing on the back patio with his hands on his hips. When his warning is ignored, he huffs and turns to head back inside. "Fine, but if any of you throw up, you're gonna be cleaning it up yourselves!"

When he closes the back door, Stiles is about to make a start on the dishes he has soaking in the sink when he notices Lydia smirking at him, the girl leaning against the jamb of the door that leads into the foyer. "What?" he asks confusedly, knowing that nothing good can come out of the redhead having that look on her face.

"Oh, nothing..." Lydia singsongs before turning and heading through to the living room.

Shrugging and deciding to just wait until Lydia reveals whatever it is she's plotting, Stiles continues with his task and leaves the dishes to dry in the rack next to the sink before making a start on the cupcakes he promised Derek he'd bake earlier. He contemplates which kind to make, struggling to come to a conclusion until he spots a jar on Nutella sitting unopened in the pantry. Decision made, he begins to prep the other ingredients when Isaac flies through the room, the back door slamming against the wall from the force with which it was opened. Before he can process what he just saw, the beta comes back into the room dragging Derek behind him. "What's going on?" he asks, setting the flour down on the counter after taking it out of the cupboard where it's stored.

"I'm being forced to join in, apparently," Derek says tiredly, giving up his futile efforts to resist and just letting himself be shepherded outside by Isaac, mumbling to himself about incorrigible wolves the entire time.

Shaking his head, Stiles watches out of the window as the pack splits up into two teams and begins another match. As much as it looked like he didn't want to participate earlier, Derek seems to get really into it after a while, ripping his overshirt off over his head so that he's just in a tank top before proceeding to absolutely dominate the other team. Pleased that his mate is having fun, Stiles goes back to his baking and, before he knows it, he finds himself taking the cupcakes out of the oven again when a skewer comes out clean. He leaves them on a wire rack to cool and has just finished preparing the frosting when the pack comes back inside, having finished their game. Erica and Allison look to have come out of it the best, the two girls still looking reasonably put together. The boys, however, look terrible by comparison. They're covered in mud and have sweat dripping from their foreheads.

Stiles shoos the betas off upstairs to shower and change. It's times like these he's glad he had the forethought to plan ahead and suggest that each member of the pack keep some spare clothes in each of their rooms. It makes the chore of doing laundry take a little bit longer, but he figures that's just one of the rare downsides to being the alpha's mate. Speaking of Derek, the man is suspiciously clean of any dirt, probably because he was the best player out there and no one could take him down. The only sign that the alpha was actually involved in the activity is the sheen of sweat covering his tanned skin.

Derek is about to follow Stiles' instructions as well and freshen up himself, but when he makes to leave the room, wiping the sweat from his brow with the Henley he took off earlier, a hand wraps around his wrist and stops him.

"Uh-uh, Sourwolf. No shower for you," Stiles commands, pulling Derek back inside the kitchen and shoving him down on one of the stools around the island. "You're gonna stay down here and help me with these." He takes the wire racks laden with cupcakes from the counter and puts them down next to the alpha instead before beginning to scoop the frosting evenly into a couple of piping bags. He sees that Derek looks apprehensive when he hands one of the filled bags to the man, a frown on his face as he looks down at his sweat-soaked clothes.

"But...I'm all sweaty," Derek points out as if it wasn't already glaringly obvious. Even so, he follows Stiles' example when the teen begins frosting his first cupcake expertly, moving his slender hands around in circles with a light grip. His own come out looking substantially messier than Stiles', but luckily, his mate doesn't seem to mind since he still nods approvingly at his sloppy handiwork.

"Doesn't matter to me. I know you know that I find sweaty to be a good look on you, so don't even try," Stiles comments, leaning sideways and licking a stripe up the damp skin of Derek's arm to prove his point. "See? Delicious! Plus, if it grosses the betas out, then I think it makes some nice revenge for you making me stink to all of them yesterday, don't you?" He smiles and fist pumps in victory when Derek huffs indignantly before dutifully resuming frosting the last few cupcakes in front of himself.

When everything is done, Stiles puts the racks on an empty shelf in the fridge so that everything sets properly before the pack gets their grubby mitts on them and devours them in what will no doubt be record time. The bowl in which he'd mixed the frosting catches his eye as he makes his way back to his stool, and he carries it with him and swipes his finger through the remaining mixture still clinging to the sides before holding it up. "You want to lick the bowl?" he asks innocently. His whole body freezes and his breath hitches when, before can get his lips around his frosting-coated digit, Derek's mouth gets there first and sucks the sweet treat from his skin.

Derek runs the taste of chocolate around in his mouth and licks his lips appreciatively. He's not usually one for Nutella, but he thinks Stiles has used just enough to give the frosting a hint of it without it being overwhelming. "I'd rather lick it off you," he replies, his voice dripping with lust. He smirks at the faint flush that appears on the skin of Stiles' face and neck at his words. Before the teen can muster up a response, he sticks his own finger in the bowl and holds it up in front of his mate's face.

Getting the idea, Stiles leans forward and opens his mouth until Derek's finger slips past his lips, closing them around the thick digit and drawing back slowly, using his tongue to swirl around it teasingly. He keeps eye contact the whole time, and from the way the alpha's eyes flash red, he knows he's succeeding at working the man up. Before he knows it, they've both closed the distance between them, their lips crashing together and their tongues battling for dominance. He of course let's Derek take the lead after putting up a perfunctory fight, moaning quietly as they share the taste of chocolate between themselves. He leaves his stool and clambers up into Derek's lap, another moan slipping into the alpha's mouth when he feels his mate's hardness through their trousers. Before things can move any further than that, however, he almost slips off of Derek's lap in surprise when someone screeches in disgust from the other side of the room. He's only saved from tumbling to the floor by the alpha's quick reflexes. Tearing his lips away from his mate's, he whips his head around and meets Isaac's traumatised gaze. The beta has his hand clamped over his mouth and stands still in the doorway, frozen in horror.

"Ugh, it's like seeing my mom and dad make out... Eww, eww, _eww_!" Isaac yells before making a hasty retreat back the way he came.

After staring after the beta for a few seconds, Stiles rests his forehead on Derek's sweaty shoulder as he tries to suppress his laughter, his body shaking. Once he calms down again, he finally allows himself to slip off of Derek's lap and takes the bowl of frosting over to the sink to soak. What he and the alpha had just done gives him an idea, and he lets it blossom in his mind before tucking it away to put into practice at a later time when they're alone.

The rest of the day passes quite calmly. The wolves seem to have gotten most of their energy out in the morning during the volleyball games and are content to just laze around the house as the hours tick by. As Stiles guessed earlier, as soon as he deems the cupcakes ready to eat, they disappear in the blink of an eye, the betas not even giving him a chance to set the trays down before they assault him. He's left standing in the kitchen waiting for his mind to catch up and, when it does, he looks down to find two lone cupcakes are left, one each for himself and Derek. He's glad the pack at least had the sense to leave something for their alpha for once. It's happened a lot in the past where whatever baked good he's prepared is consumed completely before Derek can even get a look in. While the alpha always acts like he doesn't mind, Stiles' intuition tells him every time that his mate still feels a small twinge of disappointment at missing out, though he'll mask it before anyone else can see. The trick doesn't work on him, though, since he's grown quite adept at seeing behind Derek's walls, helped along greatly by their mating bond.

Stiles catches Derek trying to sneak in a shower several times throughout the day and each time, he stops the alpha in his tracks with a reproving glare. Eventually, his mate seems to give up, which lets him cease his vigilance. They leave the rest of the pack downstairs after it looks like they've gotten settled and spend several short hours up in the library on the third floor.

Situating himself firmly in Derek's lap, Stiles spends that duration browsing through several of Deaton's old books, making the odd noise of interest when he comes across something he'd like to try out in the future. The occasional noise of disgust also slips out of his mouth whenever he finds a spell he thinks is evil and repugnant. He remembers Deaton telling him on their first training session that it'll be necessary to familiarise himself with the darker sides of magic so that he can better defend himself should he ever come across them. Even so, he skips past all of the unsavoury spells without a second glance, leaving them to wade through at a later date.

Derek spends the time in the library finishing up the second book in the _Hunger Games_ series. The timing works out perfectly since, as soon as he reads the last word on the last page, Stiles shuts the large tome he has open on his lap with a sigh and slips off onto the floor, where he sprawls out with his eyes closed. "You OK?" he asks the teen, nudging at his shoulder with his bare foot.

"Yup, just a little tired is all," Stiles replies, his eyelids feeling heavy as he blinks them open. The lazy smile he gives Derek becomes resigned when he realises that he still has to cook dinner for Derek and eleven teenagers. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he glances at the screen and sighs again when he sees that it's almost time for him to make a start. With Derek's help, he gets up off of the floor and lets himself be lead down the stairs, flicking off the light switch before he leaves the room. When they get down to the ground floor and pass by the living room, he sees that the pack have pulled out their school books and have begun powering through their homework. He shakes his head when he notices that Scott keeps badgering Lydia for help when he finds something he doesn't understand because he didn't pay close enough attention in class.

"If you want, we can just say 'fuck it' and order pizza or something instead?" Derek suggests as Stiles takes out a bunch of pots and pans from the cupboard under the counter. It doesn't escape him that the muttering coming from the other room suddenly cuts off at his words, the betas obviously listening intently for his mate's answer.

Stiles contemplates the idea for a couple of seconds before coming to the conclusion that he deserves to take a break for once. Shoving everything back inside the cupboard, he nods his assent to Derek before shutting the door and following the alpha through to the living room. It doesn't take too long for everyone to decide what they want, and the betas of course all request their own large pizzas, the majority wanting them all topped with absurd amounts of cheese and meat. The girls all decide to split a couple of vegetarian pizzas, and Stiles and Derek get a half-and-half to share. The call takes a while to make since there are so many things to list off to the employee on the other end of the line, Scott and Jackson barking out sides that they want as well.

All studying comes to a stop and all of the betas' heads shoot up and look in the direction of the door like meerkats when the doorbell rings, signalling that the food has arrived. Both Stiles and Derek go to answer it, knowing that it will most likely take all four of their hands to carry it back through. The delivery boy looks like he's about to collapse under the weight of it all before he passes everything over, clutching at his side like he's been running and has a stitch. Derek counts out the bills and gives the sweating teen the rather sizeable total before closing the door again and following Stiles into the living room. As with the cupcakes, the pack is on him like the starving wolves they apparently are as soon as he's in sight, freeing his arms of all of the food before divvying it up between themselves. He retakes his seat on the sofa and watches as Stiles walks over to the fireplace and uses his powers to light the wood inside, casting a warm and homey glow over the entirety of the room.

"I swear you're like Mario with his fireballs whenever you do that," Scott comments with his mouth full of garlic bread. He swallows it all and gets an amused expression on his face when a thought strikes him. "Maybe Derek should dress up like Princess Peach sometime. Imagine him trying to fit into that pink dress!" He practically tips over sideways in his mirth, cackling at the image he's created in his own head.

Stiles ignores Scott's laughter as he climbs over everybody's limbs on his way back to the sofa. When he takes his seat next to Derek, pressed up against his mate's side with the alpha squished against the armrest, he looks up at the man's face and sees the stony expression there. Derek obviously doesn't find the joke funny in the slightest. "Scott! Unless you want me to burn your eyebrows off, I suggest you stop laughing right now," he commands, letting his alpha-mate authority bleed into his voice. He's pleased when the beta shuts his mouth instantly, looking up at him in surprise before flicking his guilty eyes over to Derek's face.

Satisfied, Stiles takes the only pizza box not already being ravaged and opens it across his and Derek's laps, pressing his lips against the alpha's cheek to snap him out of his sour mood. It works, and they settle in to watch whatever crappy sitcom Lydia has playing on the television screen as they eat.


	5. Revelations

In keeping with that day's impeccable timing, as soon as Derek finishes the last slice of pizza in their box, his phone chirps and tells him that it's time for him and Stiles to get to the teen's next training session with Deaton. They both get ready as fast as they can after Derek remembers the veterinarian mentioning at the end of Stiles' last session that they'll be needed earlier than usual this time. Within five minutes, they're bidding goodbye to the rest of the pack and marching out of the door, the alpha leaving instructions for the last person to lock everything up if they're not back before everyone goes home.

As soon as Stiles and Derek have disappeared outside, the rumble of the Camaro's engine fading away, Lydia picks up the television remote and switches the screen off, ignoring all the noises of protest the rest of the pack makes. "Right, now that they're gone, I think it's time we all have a little planning session..." she begins, leaning back against Jackson's leg from her position on the floor.

"What're you talking about, Lydia?" Scott asks, baffled. He continues stuffing pizza in his mouth as soon as he finishes speaking, looking down at his box and frowning when he sees that he's basically demolished the entirety of it, with only one slice remaining. He looks at it sadly as he picks it up before deciding to savour it, taking small bites to try and make it last. Of course, he soon gets frustrated when he can't really taste anything and ends up consuming it nearly in one bite just the others.

Lydia watches Scott with her nose scrunched up in disapproval. She thinks the boy eats like an animal and doesn't know how Allison and Kira can stand to kiss his mouth. "As I hope you all know by now, Stiles' birthday is coming up soon, and I think we should do something special to celebrate it," she explains, shaking her head to rid her mind of Scott's voracious eating habits. "It's his eighteenth, so this needs to be big. I don't know if the rest of you have noticed it, but I think he might be feeling a little underappreciated at the moment, since no one really thanks him for all he does for us." She corrects herself when Isaac glares in her direction, the beta huffing indignantly. "Except Isaac and myself, of course. That's why we're his favourites." When she notices that everyone else is looking at her in confusion, she sighs deeply before opening her mouth again. "I'll take this morning as an example: Stiles prepared breakfast for all of us, already knowing what everyone wanted without having to ask because that's how much he pays attention and cares about us, and no one even said one word of thanks when it was all gone. You just marched off out to the back yard to play volleyball without a second thought."

Every other member of the pack casts their mind back over the past few months since Stiles properly blossomed into his role as the alpha's mate and tries to remember even one time when they've shown their gratitude for him. All of them feel incredibly guilty when they find they can't come up with even one instance.

Deciding that everybody has been sufficiently chastised, Lydia nods her head knowingly and presses on. "So, to make up for all of that, and to hopefully bring about a change as to how things work around here so you don't make him feel bad again, I definitely think a surprise party is the way to go," she finishes, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her index finger on her elbow as she waits for a reaction. "We all need to get him something amazing, and if you're hurting for money, I'm sure Derek will be more than willing to help you out there if you explain to him why you need it. I've already got my gift all planned out, and it's going to be absolutely perfect. I know he'll love it, so good luck to the rest of you."

"I think that's a great idea!" Isaac finally chirps, a smile on his lips as he flicks his eyes between the rest of the pack's faces, almost as if he's silently daring them to contradict him. He knows he'll probably have to follow Lydia's advice and ask his alpha for some money; he still hasn't gotten another job since he stopped working at the cemetery after his dad was killed. His smile widens when Danny pipes up as well and agrees readily, and he knows from the look on the Hawaiian's face that the other boy has already begun hatching some plans in his head. He shakes his own when he catches his boyfriend sharing a knowing smirk with Lydia, giving him the impression that the two old friends will most likely take care of all the preparations themselves. The most he'll probably end up having to do will be to get his present and show up on time. He can handle that, and he guesses it's best that the others are left out of the planning as well to avoid anything too outlandish being thrown into the mix.

"What are you going to be getting Stiles, Lydia?" Allison asks eventually, wanting to know so she can get some ideas for her own gift. Although they've been sort-of friends for over a year and a half now, she still doesn't really know the boy that well, a fact that she now regrets.

Lydia, instantly cottoning on to what Allison is trying to do, just shakes her head. "Nope, I'm not telling you," she says haughtily, getting up from the floor. "I'm afraid you'll have to figure out what to get him yourself. And you," she points a threatening finger at Scott, the beta's eyes widening innocently as he stares back at her, "had better not try and give her or anyone else any ideas either. I think this will be a good test to see if you really know Stiles as well as I know you'd all like to claim you do." With that, she picks her glass up from the coffee table and marches off into the kitchen to get a refill of her diet soda.

"Well, I'm fucked," Jackson mutters, slumping down in his armchair. He doesn't really care that much about getting Stiles anything in the first place, but he knows he'll give in eventually so Lydia doesn't get mad at him. _Maybe I'll rope Danny into helping me_ , he thinks, nodding to himself. He perks back up again when Lydia reenters the room. "So...what are we thinking of doing?"

"First, I say we get Derek to take Stiles out somewhere for lunch or something so that he's not in the house while we get everything ready," Danny speaks up from his spot on the sofa next to Isaac. "I'll leave the planning of that to Lydia, since anything anyone else does will probably fall short in her estimation." He smirks in the girl's direction when she glares at him. "After they get home, we do the whole presents-and-cake thing, with us taking care of it all so Stiles doesn't have to lift a finger. And then, in the evening, I think we should go out to Jungle or something and do some partying and get absolutely wasted. We'll need to bring some wolfsbane, obviously, but I know Stiles has some down in the training rooms, so that shouldn't be a problem..." He cracks up laughing seemingly out of nowhere, confusing everyone else in the room. When he finally calms himself down, wiping tears from his eyes, he gasps out the image that had appeared in his head. "Can you imagine Stiles dragging Derek out onto the dance floor? We should totally go to Jungle just so we can see that. I might record it..."

Jackson grins at Danny's thought. "Hell, this whole thing might actually be worth doing if that happens," he snorts, ignoring Lydia when the girl elbows him in the shin.

"I'm guessing I'll need to sort out fake IDs for everybody?" Danny asks, looking around the pack and making a note in his phone of everybody that nods their assent. Jackson is the only other person who seems to already be sorted. He's a little surprised that Erica doesn't have one, since she seems like the type who'd really enjoy going out and partying every now and then, but he just shrugs and doesn't comment on it.

"Well, I suppose that's that all settled then," Lydia dismisses, taking out her own phone and browsing through the website for the local party supply store. She doesn't usually go for the sort of decorations other people tend to get, but she knows Stiles likes them, so she sucks it up and starts adding things to her cart, figuring that since it's his party, she should get things he'll appreciate. She shakes her head when she comes across a couple of categories specifically for things from the _Marvel_ and _DC_ comic universes, amazed and slightly worried at the amount of things that are in them. When she finishes getting everything she thinks they'll need, her eyes widen when she sees the total. Nevertheless, she presses the button and reserves it all, theorising that she can just send the bill to Derek afterward. If she's already picked it all up and paid for it, he can't refuse her. _Not that he'd dare try_ , she thinks evilly, smirking to herself.

Isaac frowns when an idea hits him. "Do you think we should invite Charlie?" he asks the room, knowing from the expressions that appear on all of his packmates' faces that the thought never even crossed their minds. "She and Stiles seem to be getting awfully buddy-buddy, so maybe he'd like it if she were there. It's probably the nice thing to do anyway."

Lydia bites at her bottom lip as she thinks over Isaac's suggestion, contemplating the pros and cons in depth. "Let's see how this week goes, and if things remain friendly between the two of them, I'll ask her if she wants to come, OK?" she decides, feeling the stirrings of jealousy in her gut at the idea of Stiles replacing her as his best female friend with another redhead, a fake one at that. She's still not sure whether she trusts the unfamiliar girl yet, either, having not spent enough time getting to know her to come to a conclusion. Knowing she's just being silly—what she said earlier about herself and Isaac being Stiles' favourites within the pack still stands, after all, second only to Derek—she shakes the thoughts from her mind. "If she does come, you all know you'll have to keep a lid on all of the supernatural stuff, right? Derek would probably kill us if a stranger found out about us all and exposed us."

"Yeah...I'd rather not be experimented on by the government, thanks," Erica mutters, cringing. "I'm sure we can manage not to let anything slip for one night, can't we, guys?" She smiles when her question is met with a round of cheers from all of the other betas.

Danny looks up from where he's still flicking through his phone before getting to his feet and moving to stand next to one of the walls, choosing a blank expanse of yellow for what he has planned. "Alright, if I'm gonna have enough time to make everyone's IDs look passable, I'll need to start working on them almost immediately, so...everybody up," he orders, gesturing for Allison to stand in front of the wall facing him when the girl ends up being the first to follow his instruction. One by one, he takes pictures of all of them, saving them in their own folder so he doesn't forget or accidentally delete them. It takes a little while for him to get an acceptable shot of Scott, since the other boy keeps messing around and pulling faces. It's only when Lydia reminds the beta of Stiles' earlier threat of burning off his eyebrows that Scott behaves, much to Danny's relief. Boyd is the last one to go, and Danny sends the tall teen a grateful smile when he gets a good photo of him in one attempt. It certainly makes a nice change coming straight after Scott. "OK...just leave everything to me. If Charlie does end up coming, I'll need to get a shot of her as well so she can get into Jungle with us."

"What if she doesn't want to do something like that?" Isaac asks, instantly tucking himself in close to Danny when the other beta retakes his seat next to him on the sofa. "I mean, we don't really know anything about her; she might be super straight-laced or something."

"Then she'll just have to leave the party early before we head out, won't she?" Lydia answers, picking the television remote back up and switching the TV back on. "Besides, I don't think that'll be an issue. From what Stiles has told me, she hasn't really done anything 'bad' before, but she apparently looked pretty curious when he told her about some of the mischief he and Scott used to get into. I think she'll be easy to convince."

* * *

Derek begins driving in the direction of the Nemeton before remembering that this session will be taking place in the backroom of the clinic like they usually do. Monday was a special case. Deaton's is the only other car in the lot when they come to a stop outside of the building, which isn't unusual given the late hour. They find the back entrance has been unlocked for their impending arrival and they eagerly use it to escape from the chill of the evening air. Deaton and Holly are both sat on two stools in the examination room when they enter it, deep in a discussion. Derek only catches the back end of it, but none of their hushed words make sense to him without context. It doesn't matter anyway, because as soon as the pair notice his and Stiles' presence, they stop speaking immediately. Neither of them look guilty, so he assumes it's not pertinent to whatever it is his mate is about to do in the next couple of hours.

"Ah, Derek, Stiles...I was wondering when you two would arrive," Deaton says as he gets up from his stool and walks over to greet them. He leads them further into the room and shuts the door with a click. Holly stays where she sits and simply observes.

Stiles notes with interest that the examination table which usually sits in the centre of the room has been pushed up against one of the walls, the screws missing from its legs. Deaton leaves briefly and returns dragging two more stools with him, which he positions opposite Holly's and his own before indicating that he and Derek should make use of them. He wonders what the vet will have him doing this time, feeling some nerves building in his chest since their last session didn't end on that positive a note. He hasn't thought of what he saw since he told Derek that night in bed and he doesn't particularly want to dredge it all back up now and ruin the rest of what has turned out to be a surprisingly good week.

Once everybody has gotten settled, Deaton clears his throat and begins. "Right, so...I know Monday didn't turn out the way any of us were expecting, but I don't want you to be discouraged, Stiles," he assures, pleased when he sees the worried expression on the teen's face relax a little at his words. "Now, why don't we start with you explaining what it was you saw?"

After glancing sideways at Derek to get some encouragement, Stiles opens his mouth and begins going over every little detail he remembers from his 'vision'. Both Deaton and Holly listen attentively, their expressions going from understanding as he describes how freaked out he'd been to shocked when he mentions Jeremy's apparent warning from his mother. "Then I felt hands gripping my arms—which I guess was Derek trying to bring me back—and I 'woke up' or whatever. So...is that enough to figure out where my powers lean or however it was you phrased it earlier?" he asks them, recalling the vet mentioning the many different types of magic there are in the world before it all happened.

"Yes, I think that should be sufficient, don't you, Holly?" Deaton asks, looking sideways at his colleague and turning back to Stiles when the woman nods her assent. "Now, I can't be one-hundred percent sure, so this could turn out to be wrong entirely, but if I were to hazard I guess I'd say your powers lean more toward foresight, or seeing the future, as it were." This potential outcome excites him considerably, since he knows that if Stiles works at it, it could lead to the pack always being one step ahead of whoever tries to decimate them in the future. It would certainly mean less work for him, and he _is_ getting older and less able to deal with all the stress helping the pack causes him now. That was one of the reasons he began grooming Stiles in the first place, so the teen could take his place as the emissary, not that he was ever really that for Derek anyway. He was only ever a temporary emissary for Talia after Jeremy's death, and he hasn't held that title in any official capacity since the Hale family was wiped out all those years ago.

"What?!" Stiles squawks, his eyes widening in surprise and his breath hitching in fear. "So all that horrible shit I saw...that'll actually happen?!" He can't help but wish he'd skipped this session and just remained at home, relaxing with his pack and remaining blissfully ignorant. _If only life was that easy_ , he muses.

"Not necessarily. Seeing the future isn't an exact science; there are an infinite number of possibilities and the smallest choice can change everything," Deaton assures, watching impassively as Derek tries to calm down the panicking teen. "For all we know right now, it's possible that nothing you saw will actually happen, so it's not worth getting worked up about until we know more."

Finally getting his breathing back to normal, Stiles pats Derek on the knee in thanks before repeating Deaton's words in his head to get a better understanding of them. "OK... Now what about Jeremy's message from my mom, about my powers being 'inherited'? What the hell does that mean? How is that possible? My mom didn't know anything about all of this!" he exclaims passionately, his eyes narrowing when he sees the beginnings of guilt forming on Deaton's face. The man looks off to the side to avoid his accusing gaze. "What aren't you telling me? If it's something about my mom, I have the right to know!" His voice rises with every word until he's practically shouting at the man, and he's only stopped from getting to his feet because Derek places a grounding hand on his shoulder to keep him on his stool. It's easier to channel his emotions into anger instead of actually feeling the fear that still stirs in his stomach. He only gives up when he feels his eyes begin to glow their supernatural golden hue that accompanies his fire, not wanting to accidentally end up burning down the whole building.

Deaton clears his throat awkwardly and gets up from his stool, walking over to stand in front of the examination table. He leans his hands against it and stays facing away from everyone else in the room as he begins to explain. "I didn't know you mother," he says quietly, letting himself get lost in his memories. "I was aware of when she and your father moved here, though. I had just taken over this clinic and I used to be a sort of consultant for Jeremy, should he ever come across something he couldn't handle or work out on his own. It didn't happen often, but I remember on one such occasion when he called me over to the Hale house, your mother was there as well, Stiles. I could sense there was something strange about her and, after she left, I asked Talia about what was going on. I still don't know everything, but Talia let me in on a little before telling me to stay out of it, which I did."

Stiles grows impatient when Deaton suddenly stops talking. "Well? Are you going to finish that thought or are you just gonna leave me hanging?" he demands, trying to remain calm. He doesn't like the thought that the vet, a man he was only just learning to trust, has been keeping something this important from him all these months. He takes Derek's hand from his shoulder and links their fingers together instead, resting them on his knee to stop it from bouncing in place with nervous energy.

"Your mother _did_ know about the supernatural, Stiles," Deaton reveals finally, turning back around to face the rest of the room. He keeps his eyes locked with the teen's wide, disbelieving pair. "Talia told me that, back in Poland, something happened to your mother's family that scared her terribly. As a consequence, she bound her own powers and fled to America for a fresh start, where she met your father. I don't think he knew about any of this. Your mother kept that part of herself locked away and hidden from everybody else. She went to Talia because she knew that her family was made up of werewolves and that there was a Nemeton here, dormant though it was at the time. She knew there was always the possibility of something happening to wake it all up again and she wanted to be kept in the know about any supernatural goings-on in town so she could run again if need be. Talia wouldn't tell me any more than that, and I haven't looked into any of it myself since then."

His mind racing, Stiles can't quite grasp what he's hearing. He can't believe that he had absolutely no clue about this part of his mother's past and wonders what else she could have possibly been hiding from him. Turning to Derek, he finds the alpha staring back at him with an equal amount of shock on his face. "Did you know about any of this?" he asks, his voice wavering slightly. He thinks his mate could possibly have overheard something if he happened to be around during one of his mother's visits.

Derek shakes his head slowly. "I didn't know any of the specifics, but now that I think about it...I do have faint memories of your mom coming by the house every once in a while," he explains quietly, squeezing back when Stiles' hand tightens in his. "I just thought she and my mom were friends or something..." He guesses it makes sense for his mate's powers to be inherited rather than just springing up out of nowhere, especially if what Holly said earlier in the week is to be believed. He has a rather limited knowledge about magic and everything related to it, but even he knows power like that has to come from somewhere. Since it started appearing before the whole debacle with the surrogate sacrifices that awoke the Nemeton, Stiles' power being passed down genetically is really the only option left.

"Now that's out of the way, I want to try this again," Deaton mutters, beginning to pull out some pillar candles from one of the cabinets. He hands them off to Holly in pairs until they're positioned in a circle in the centre of the room before bending down to light them all with a box a matches.

Stiles immediately recognises what's going on and gets to his feet. "No way!" he protests, backing away a couple of paces. "I'm not going back into that... _place_. Once was bad enough!" He still would've been terrified to do it otherwise, but after having to take in and process this new revelation about his mother, he doesn't think his mind is in any state to be subjected to horrors like those he already saw in his first vision. He's grateful when Derek gets up as well and moves to stand next to him, both of them facing Deaton and Holly like a united front.

"I know this is scary, Stiles," Deaton says calmly, holding out his palms in an effort to soothe, "but this is a necessary evil if you still want to become Derek's emissary. Since your powers lean more toward foresight, in order for you to move onto any of the other types of magic, you need to master this one first. The only way to do that is to keep trying until it doesn't faze you anymore. Think of it this way: if you can get through this, the next time will be easier and the time after that even more so, until it'll feel like a walk in the park every time from then on. Plus, the information you could potentially gain through your premonitions could turn out to be invaluable to you and the pack's survival in the future. If any new enemy comes along and tries to tear you all apart again, you'll know about it in advance and will be able to prepare accordingly." When he still sees apprehension on Stiles' features, he goes for a different tactic. "If you want, it would be possible for Derek to accompany you until you feel more comfortable doing it on your own."

"I thought you said I needed to be around the Nemeton for this to work, so I don't even know why we're talking about this," Stiles points out futilely, still hoping he can talk his way out of revisiting whatever nightmare world he saw the last time. "It won't work without it, surely."

Deaton nods indulgently, a small, amused smile on his lips. "I did say that, yes," he says as he takes out the ingredients needed to make the paste he'll be putting on Stiles' and Derek's faces. "But that was before we knew the extent of your powers. From your reaction, I take it Derek didn't share what Holly told him before you left our last session, about how the gift you have comes only once in several generations. It should be possible for you to achieve another vision without the Nemeton's help. In fact, now that I think about it, the whole reason your first vision was so intense may have been because it enhanced your magic _too_ much. This time should feel more manageable."

Stiles feels like stomping his foot on the floor like a child having a tantrum as Deaton's words strip away whatever other pointless arguments he could make. He grudgingly accepts that what the man is saying makes sense and thinks back to what he'd said when Derek suggested he give up his training, how much he'd been against the idea. He tries to get back into that mindset, knowing that it'll be easier to get through this if he at least fakes confidence. "Ugh, fine!" he relents eventually, after he realises that everybody else in the room has been staring at him for almost a full minute, just waiting for his answer. He looks over at Derek. "You'll come with me, right?" He bites his lip worriedly and, while he doesn't like displaying such vulnerability around the vet, he guesses it's alright to lean on his mate a little, especially since Deaton is the one who brought it up in the first place. He just hopes the alpha is willing to help.

Nodding his response immediately, Derek gives Stiles a reassuring smile that seems to pacify the teen's nerves a little bit. He's glad that a small gesture like that can have such a positive effect. "Of course I will," he replies, projecting an air of strength and protectiveness to help calm his mate even more. His nose twitches when Deaton applies the paste to his face, the substance immediately beginning to itch a little like Stiles had said it did.

Taking his place within the circle of candles, Stiles sits directly opposite Derek. They both have their legs crossed with their knees touching, his hands resting palms up between them with the alpha's own covering them, palms down. As he listens to Deaton's words of guidance, he tries to drown out all of his fear and keep his heart rate normal. Soon enough, he feels a small tug in his chest, almost like it's pulling him backward. He lets it, and when he opens his eyes after realising he can no longer hear the vet's voice, he finds that he and Derek are now alone in the suddenly very dark backroom, the candles once again being the only light source. He shakily gets to his feet, looking around cautiously and expecting something horrific to jump out and attack him at any moment without warning. He only stops his nervous inspection when he feels Derek's hand slip around his own, squeezing.

Derek is baffled. He's only experienced something similar to this once in the past, when he used his mother's claws to ask the woman for advice while the whole Nogitsune fiasco was playing out. The silence unnerves him. Usually, if he concentrates hard enough, he'd be able to detect the faint noises of life from a considerable distance away, be it a passing car or the quiet murmur of a television, but here...he can't hear anything but himself and Stiles. Growing curious, he tugs on the teen's arm and leads him to the clinic's exit, pushing open the door slowly and peering outside. The darkness is suffocating, his preternatural eyesight not even picking up the Camaro which he knows is parked just a few feet away. "Was it like this before?" he whispers, looking back as Stiles releases his hand and disappears back the way they came. He's about to ask what the teen is doing when he returns, holding a couple of candles in his hands. "Good thinking..." He takes one of the pillars when Stiles offers it to him before venturing out into the open. Sure enough, after taking a few paces forward, the flickering light reflects off of the sleek, black paint of his car.

"If you're asking whether it was this dark the last time I did this, then the answer is yes," Stiles replies equally as quietly. It somehow doesn't seem like a good idea to raise his voice any higher than that, the darkness feeling oppressive and sinister. He links his hand with Derek's again and follows as the alpha continues walking, looking for what, he doesn't know.

"This is so weird..." Derek breathes, extending his free arm and holding his candle out in front of himself so he can see a little further into the blackness. He disregards what he thought earlier; this is _nothing_ like using his mother's claws. He keeps them walking until he finds he cannot go any further. It's like there's an invisible wall impeding his progress. Letting go of Stiles' hand, he sends a guilty smile back at the teen when he hears him whine in protest at the loss of contact before reaching out to touch the wall. He feels like a mime as he begins walking along it, his mate's hurried footsteps following along behind him. When they get to the tree line, he pauses, trying to peer into the darkness to discern where they've ended up. Time seems to pass strangely wherever they are and he's unable to even hazard a guess as to how long they've been walking. Not even his nose is of any help to him, since nothing but the two of them gives off any sort of scent he can detect. He now fully understands why Stiles had been so panicked earlier in the week. He's not faring much better and he hasn't even encountered anything yet.

"I feel like I'm in _Insidious_..." Stiles mutters after a while, trusting Derek to lead the way. He almost expects at any moment to run into a bunch of doll-like ghosts looking to possess his body so they can live again. As soon as the thought comes, he shakes his head sharply and tries to focus on something else. Even the word 'possession' does horrible things to his stomach these days, especially after he'd seen himself looking like _that_ again the first time he attempted this.

Derek keeps them moving, figuring that they'll find something sooner or later. He sticks to the invisible wall, following it to see if it leads anywhere. Eventually, they come to a wide dirt road, which he recognises immediately. The wall has led them right to their house and, sure enough, when he treks further along the road, the building flickers into view, looking ominous in the darkness. He can see his reflection in the windows as he passes them but nothing beyond the glass is visible. He doesn't like seeing his and Stiles' home in such a way when it's always felt like such a safe haven, so he moves on and tries to open the front door, pushing it inward when he finds it unlocked. As far as he can tell, this world is a perfect mirror of reality, right down to the smallest details like the tiny nick in the wall just off to the left. It was caused when Scott tripped over his own feet one day and dug into the paint with his claws to save himself from cracking his head open on the hardwood floor. Before he can venture any deeper into the house, Stiles grabs onto the back of his tank top and stops him, the teen's breath hitching and instantly putting him on alert.

"Something's here. I can feel it..." Stiles shudders, his voice high-pitched and terrified. He can't tell if who or whatever it is has bad intentions or not, but he errs on the side of caution anyway. He jumps several feet into the air when another voice speaks from the direction of the living room, sounding rough and amused.

"Back again, I see."

Before Derek can react, he detects movement in his periphery and turns his head, his eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching when he sees the figure that leans against the back of the sofa. It's like he's back there, nine months ago, staring right at the Nogitsune as it wears Stiles' face. Only now, it's even worse because it's not just one of his pack that's being controlled and turned against him, it's his mate. He's unable to suppress the growl the builds in his chest and he's about to mindlessly throw himself at the demon when another hand stops him, wrapping around the arm with which he holds his candle. Recoiling, his eyes widen when he sees a third Stiles is stood to his right, this one looking exactly like the real one. "What the hell...?" he says disbelievingly, stepping back and darting his eyes between all three of the teenagers. It's incredibly disconcerting, but he sticks close to the one he knows is his actual mate and watches dubiously as both of the copies move to stand side by side. He'd forgotten how terrible Stiles looked while he was possessed, and seeing them right next to each other only highlights how much the real Stiles has improved since then.

"There's no need to be scared," the friendly-looking copy says, smiling gently. Strangely, he seems to be a little frightened himself.

The emaciated Stiles rolls his eyes and scoffs before moving to stand in front of the fireplace. "Let's get a little more light in here, shall we?" he asks rhetorically, conjuring up some fire and tossing it casually onto the wood, igniting it and casting a warm glow across the whole room. "There. That's better." When he turns back around and sees that Derek and the real Stiles are still standing frozen in the foyer, he tilts his head to the side and holds the alpha's eyes. "See something you like?"

Snapping himself out of his daze, Derek bares his teeth and extinguishes his candle since it's not really needed anymore. He puts the pillar on the table that sits by the front door before daring to step into the living room with the two copies. "You'd better not try anything," he warns, dragging the real Stiles along behind himself since the teen still has a tight grasp on his tank top. Reluctantly, he takes a seat on the sofa when he's instructed to do so, feeling uneasy about taking orders from something that looks so evil. He's happy when both of the doubles move to stand in front of him so that they're both in his line of sight. Regardless of how friendly the lighter version looks to be, he knows appearances to be deceiving and he'd rather not find out if they are in this case.

"You don't have to worry about that, Derek," the lighter copy assures quietly, taking a tentative seat on the coffee table next to the dark version. "I know what this looks like, but I promise that neither of us want to hurt either of you. We're both still Stiles. We're just...different iterations, if that makes any sense."

"It doesn't, no," Stiles speaks up from next to Derek, feeling incredibly weirded out at having a conversation with himself again.

"It's pretty simple, really," Dark-Stiles stays, remaining standing in front of the fireplace, the flames behind him obscuring the planes of his face and making him look like a silhouette. Only the glint in his eyes can be seen. "We're both you, and we're both not you. I know you know about our powers by now, so I'm not going to bore you with those details. Basically, this is something you'll have to look forward to in the near future, being split in half right down the middle. I get all of our anger, our vindictiveness and basically every other negative emotion, as well as our confidence—and don't ask me why it works that way; it just does—and that idiot over there gets all of the positive ones, like the big heart and the patience and the ability to actually give a shit about people." His tone becomes more and more disparaging as he lists off his double's attributes. "He's a nervous wreck most of the time, though, the poor fucker."

Derek frowns, watching the way the darker Stiles' little diatribe causes the lighter version to hunch in on himself, his arms wrapping around his torso defensively and his eyes filling with tears. He'd feel bad regardless, but now he knows they're both actually his mate and not just monsters wearing his face—if what he's just been told is to be believed, anyway—he can't help but want to wrap the shaking body up in his arms and comfort him. He barely resists.

"So you're not actually the Nogitsune?" Stiles asks the dark double suspiciously, not liking the implications that he has the emotions it just described within himself.

The darker half laughs heartily, his head tipping back and his hands clutching his stomach with the intensity of it all. When he calms down again, he gets a condescending expression on his face as he stares down at the real Stiles. "Nope. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you're capable of every little, dark emotion I just said. The Nogitsune just brought it out of you," he explains, getting a far-away look in his eyes. "I know you feel them just like I do. Have you ever told our dear Derek? No? Hmm, not very good to be keeping secrets from your mate now, is it, Stiles?"

"What's he talking about?" Derek asks, glancing sideways at Stiles and pausing when he sees the stricken expression on the teen's face.

"It's nothing," Stiles deflects, not wanting to talk about it and hoping that everyone else lets the subject drop. He stares instead at the darkness on the other side of the window, trying not to think about everything his darker double has just said or about how much it strikes a chord with him. He's known he has the potential to be bad ever since he was young, when all of the traumas he experienced growing up dragged him down and shaped him into the person he is today. All of those negative impulses were only amplified after the Nogitsune got its ugly claws into him, and that's something he's kept hidden from every single person in his life ever since. They've all been shoved inside another box in the back of his mind with the other thoughts he doesn't want to ever address, that he's a murderer, that he's not good enough for Derek, and that the pack is eventually going to realise how much they don't need him, tossing him aside and replacing him with someone more worthy of their time, someone who'll take better care of them all. Rationally, he knows nothing of the sort will ever happen; he knows the pack all love him, although maybe not in Jackson's case. The occasional self-deprecating thought will just suddenly appear in his head every so often and he'll have to wrangle it inside one of the boxes before it can take root in his brain and grow into something substantial.

Easily being able to read the real Stiles' face, the dark double rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He opens the window before walking forward and sitting on the coffee table next to his lighter half, getting enjoyment out of the way everyone leans away from him now that he's closer. "Don't worry, Derek," he says eventually, still keeping his eyes on Stiles. "I'm sure it'll come out eventually." He pauses when a shudder suddenly runs through his body. "Anyway, it looks like it's about time for you to leave. Have fun fucking like bunnies, you two, and Stiles? I'll be seeing you again sooner than you think." With a wink, both he and the lighter half disappear, seeming to disintegrate into dust that flies out of the open window.

Stiles feels himself relax again now that both of his doubles are gone, slumping back into the cushions. He throws an arm over his tired eyes before peering out from underneath it, hiding again when he sees that Derek is still staring at him with worry and confusion on his face. He sighs before beginning to talk. "It was talking about everything I've been thinking since the end of last year," he sighs, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on his knees, keeping his eyes trained on his feet so he doesn't have to look at Derek. "I guess you could call it my 'dark side'. What you saw with that double, or dark half or whatever the hell it said it was? All of the thoughts and feelings the Nogitsune had? They're still there, always simmering beneath the surface. I just keep them buried all the time. Focusing on the positive aspects of my life helps, but yeah...I can't get rid of them. It's like the Nogitsune is still in my head, talking to me and trying to rile me up and make me do things I don't want to do or think things I don't want to think. I can ignore it most of the time, but I can't stop it completely. It's a part of me now."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Derek asks, a little hurt at being kept in the dark about something that clearly upsets his mate so much. "You didn't have to keep all of that hidden, least of all from me. If you were worried about my reaction, then you shouldn't have been. I've told you before how much I love you and that I know what a good person you are. You don't think I have a dark side as well? Because, let me tell you, I do. I _really_ do; you've seen it before. So why wouldn't I accept this?" When Stiles still refuses to meet his eyes, he tilts the teen's head up and turns it in his direction with a finger under his chin, not saying anything more until his silence causes amber eyes to finally flick up to his own. "You don't have to hide this from me, Stiles. I'll never judge you or stop loving you for anything."

A tear slips out of the corner of Stiles' eye as he stares into Derek's hazel pair, seeing the sincerity in their depths and nodding his acceptance. "OK," he croaks, wiping away the moisture on his face and shaking himself to get rid of his sour emotions. "You think it's OK to go back now?"

"I'd say it's up to you," Derek theorises, following Stiles' lead when the teen stands. He takes his mate's hand when it's held out to him and watches as Stiles closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose. He guesses that the teen is trying to bring them back to reality without having to walk all the way back to the clinic. The next time he blinks, he finds himself sat back on the floor in the back room, Deaton and Holly immediately rushing over to them when they realise they're awake again. "Well, that was interesting..." He gets to his feet and presses his palm to his head when it spins dangerously. The dizziness passes after a couple of seconds, much to his relief.

"What did you see?" Deaton asks, watching as Derek helps Stiles to his feet as well, the teen leaning heavily on the alpha since his legs seem to wobble precariously.

Stiles shakes his head, fighting the urge to throw up. He doesn't remember returning to the real world being this much of a shock to his system the last time. "Nothing new," he manages to get out eventually, sticking close to Derek even though his balance has returned. The alpha's arm is incredibly comforting where it rests around his waist, thick fingers dipping beneath the hem of his shirt to rub soothingly across his bony hip. "It was just those two doubles of me this time, so I guess your theory about the Nemeton's power pushing mine too far was right."

"OK. I think that'll do for tonight, so why don't you head back home and get some rest?" Deaton suggests, glancing up at the clock that hangs on the wall to his left. He switches on the lights and begins putting out all of the candles and packing them away to use again at a later date.

His brow scrunching up in confusion, Stiles is confused about why Deaton is calling this session to an end so soon. He follows the man's eyes and feels his own widen in shock when he sees the time. It's nearing two in the morning, meaning that he and Derek were in their vision for more than five hours. "Holy crap..." he breathes, disbelieving. _I guess that's why my eyes feel so heavy_ , he muses, wondering what Deaton and Holly could possibly have been doing during all of that time to keep themselves occupied. He doesn't think he could've coped with sitting around doing nothing for that long. Dismissing it as unimportant, he bids a quick goodbye to the two of them and drags Derek out through the back door, their bed calling him. He all but collapses in the passenger seat and feels his eyes slipping closed as the rumbling of the Camaro's engine lulls him.

When Derek pulls up outside of their house and gets out of the car, he hears nothing but silence around him, telling him that the pack have all left. He supposes he should've guessed that would be the case, since it's so late and the only other vehicle there is Stiles' Jeep. Shrugging to himself, he's about to head inside when he catches a faint trace of a strange scent. He's never smelled anything like it, but before he can go and investigate where it comes from, he loses it as quickly as he'd found it. Chalking it up as belonging to some animal that took off running when it heard his approach, he turns back around and finally notices that Stiles has yet to leave the car. He can see the teen's head leaning against the window, and when he stands right next to the door, he finds that his mate appears to have fallen asleep. He smiles to himself and thinks that Stiles looks rather adorable, even with his lips parted wide and a small trail of drool running out from the corner of his mouth. Unlocking the house in advance—pleased that the pack actually listened to his instructions for once and locked it after leaving in the first place—he carefully opens the passenger-side door and catches Stiles before he falls bodily out of the car.

It takes some careful manoeuvring, but he's eventually able to crouch down and lift Stiles up on his back without waking the teen. He keeps Stiles' arms slung over his shoulders and carries him with his hands positioned under his knees, the teen's legs on either side of his waist. After aiming a couple of gentle kicks at the car and front doors to close them, he carries his slumbering mate up the stairs. It's starting to feel like a daily occurrence, not that he ever minds having Stiles in his arms. When he lays the teen down on their bed and makes to leave the room again, he's stopped by a sharp whine and hand hooking into the waistband of his jeans.

Taking pity on his mate, Derek uncurls Stiles' fingers and tugs his shirt off over his head before the teen can make another sound. Balling the fabric up, he puts it in front of Stiles' face and smiles when the teen immediately buries his nose in it and grabs onto it with both hands, a contented sigh escaping his lips as the alpha's scent fills his nose. Derek can't help but shake his head fondly as he goes back downstairs and into the kitchen, intent on getting himself a late-night snack before joining his mate. In the end, he settles for a couple of leftover slices of pizza from the fridge that he's surprised that pack didn't polish off. They don't usually leave anything behind with their insatiable appetites, not that he's usually any better. He stands leaning against the island as he thinks over everything he'd experienced that evening. A twinge of disappointment stirs in his gut as he realises that he didn't get to see Jeremy in Stiles' vision. He doesn't even remember going into the whole thing with that hope, but he guesses he must have subconsciously been longing to see his beloved uncle again after so many years. He wonders how the older man is doing wherever he ended up, whether he's happy there and whether Landon is with him. He dismisses that last thought as soon as he thinks it, seriously doubting that they ended up in the same place.

Derek takes his last bite of cold pizza before dumping the crust in the bin and switching off the light again. The house is quiet as he checks it all over to make sure the pack didn't leave anything in too much of a mess like they normally seem to. The coffee table in the living room is piled high with empty pizza boxes, and he's a little shocked that Lydia would allow the place to be left in that state. Maybe she was one of the first to leave.

Deciding that he'll clean it up in the morning, Derek ascends the stairs and eyes the shower critically when he gets into the bathroom. He glances back out and sees that Stiles is still sleeping, so he takes the opportunity to finally rid himself of the dried sweat he'd accumulated playing volleyball earlier that morning. He'd been incredibly reluctant to join in when Isaac had starting dragging him outside, but he admits to himself that he'd ended up having a really good time once he let himself get into it. It felt good to show the other team how it's done, his skills unmatched by any of his betas thanks to his natural athletic ability and his alpha status. The fact that he caught Stiles smiling at him through the kitchen window was also a plus. He'd gotten a particular kick out of seeing Jackson become increasingly ticked off. The competitive teen had even gone so far as to suggest they switch the teams up after the first game, foisting all of the girls off on him while he took all of the other guys. It didn't make a difference, and he hopes it went a long way in teaching Jackson not to think in such a sexist way. He thinks Jackson should know better given that the beta is in a relationship with Lydia, who's probably the most terrifying girl he's ever met. In the future, if Isaac ever tries to rope him into participating in any more pack activities like that one, he decides he'll be more cooperative.

After waiting for the spray to heat up, Derek steps beneath it and tilts his head forward, letting the water cascade down his back in a soothing sluice. He simply stands there for several minutes, thinking back over everything he had seen in Stiles' vision and contemplating what all of it could possibly mean. The words the two doubles of his mate had spoken run through his mind again, and he hopes that what they said wasn't actually true. It was bad enough experiencing it there without it actually being a reality; he really doesn't want to know what it would be like to have it actually happen in real life. After deciding to just put it all out of his mind for now, he does a quick job of cleaning himself up before exiting the stall and towelling himself off.

The steam from the shower has obscured the mirror completely, and Derek swipes his hand over it a couple of times to clear it again. Staring at his reflection, he tries to neaten his hair up as much as possible so it doesn't end up drying in some ridiculous style that he won't be able to fix the next morning. He needs it cut, really, but he can never seem to the find the motivation to go and get it sorted.

Looking down at his body, Derek thinks about how he still doesn't get Stiles' lust when it comes to his body hair and the scent of his sweat. He'd been particularly baffled when the teen had spent a long time with his face buried in his armpits the first time it all came to light, focusing more of his attention there than on any other part of his body. He doesn't really understand it; that part of the human body has never done anything for him personally, but he figures he doesn't mind letting Stiles have what he wants. He admits that it did feel surprisingly good to have his mate licking and sucking at the hair there as well as across the rest of his body and he knows there'll no doubt be kinks he has that Stiles will indulge him in further down the line. He's only ever really had plain, vanilla sex before mating himself to the teen, and while the intimacy he feels when he makes love to his wonderful mate without any frills is unparallelled by anything he's experienced before, he feels his heart beat faster with excitement in his chest at all of the possibilities opening before him now that he can be more adventurous.

The conversation he'd had back on Monday morning reenters his mind as he thinks, from his bashful admittance of needing to mark Stiles as his in every way to the teen's easy acceptance of it all. He wonders if Stiles has thought any more about it since then before shaking his head and smiling wryly, reprimanding himself lightly for not immediately realising that _of course_ his mate would have. Knowing Stiles, the teen has probably even gone online and researched every single kink there is in the world and compiled a list of all the ones he wants to try out.

Speaking of Stiles, after he switches off the bathroom light and steps back through into their bedroom, he finds the teen still lying where he'd left him, clutching his Henley tightly to his face. He feels refreshed and invigorated from his shower, and he stares down at his crotch when his cock starts to react and fill. He's tempted to wave a finger at it and tell it to knock it off, and he rolls his eyes as he catches himself, sighing because Stiles is obviously rubbing off on him, and not in the fun way. He does sympathise with his cock, though, since it hasn't seen any action all week because Stiles has been so busy and tired from settling into the chaos of senior year. Still, he was celibate for years before mating, and had spent months more without sex after the first time he'd made love to Stiles; he can handle a few days longer. If not, he always has his own hand.

Even as he slides beneath the sheets with Stiles snoring softly away beside him, Derek doesn't feel tired, even with the late hour. Something about the vision has left him feeling strangely energised, like there's an itch under his skin that won't go away no matter how long he lies still and tries to ignore it. His wolf prowls back and forth inside of his head, almost like it's on the lookout for something. He looks sideways at Stiles' bare back, reaching out a hand and tracing along the pale skin with his index finger like he's playing a game of _Connect the Dots_ with the teen's many moles. Even though he's done it more times than he can count in the past, he never stops getting enjoyment out of it, seeing how many different shapes and patterns he can make with them in his mind.

Stiles stirs a little under Derek's light touches, turning over in his sleep and pressing himself close. The teen's face ends up smushed against Derek's chest, his head resting on the alpha's bicep as their legs intertwine seemingly of their own will. The man's shirt is still clenched tightly in Stiles' right hand where it's slung over his waist.

A small shudder wracks through Derek's body when he shifts slightly to make himself more comfortable, the movement causing Stiles' light breaths to puff across his right nipple as the teen snuffles impossibly closer and ends up with his nose buried in the crevice of his armpit. He lies there stock-still until Stiles lets out a happy, little noise and settles, obviously content with this new position. The skin-to-skin contact calms the restlessness of his wolf slightly, and he buries his own nose in Stiles' hair and just concentrates on his scent, letting it calm him even more. His eyes still don't feel heavy at all, but it at least reduces the itching under his skin to a manageable tickle.

Glancing up at the clock on the nightstand, he sighs when he sees that it's nearing four in the morning. He hopes he manages to get some sleep soon so he doesn't end up waking up ludicrously late. When Stiles' arm clings even tighter around his torso, though, he knows he's just fooling himself. He'll stay in bed as long as his mate wants him to, and since it'll be a Sunday and because it's Stiles, the teen probably won't wake up until gone noon, especially since he didn't go to bed until late in the first place. If he's honest with himself, he puts up mild protests and acts like he dislikes it every time, but he actually secretly revels in their early-morning cuddles, or mid-afternoon cuddles, as they'll no doubt be this time. They allow him to bask in Stiles' affections, which never fail to make him feel like he can fly. He jumps when the teen begins speaking, having not realised that his mate had regained consciousness.

"Der?" Stiles croaks, pulling back slightly and looking up at Derek with groggy eyes. He blinks a couple of times to get the alpha's face to come into focus and, when it does, he notices the fact that his mate looks surprisingly awake. "What's up?"

Shaking his head, Derek tucks Stiles' head back beneath his chin and shushes the teen, beginning to run his fingers through his hair to lull him back to sleep. "Don't worry about me, love. I'm fine," he assures, a small smile appearing on his lips when he almost instantly feels Stiles' body go slack against his again. _It's going to be a long night_ , he thinks.


	6. Jealousy

_\- Sunday, August 12th, 2012 -_

Stiles wakes up still nestled in Derek's arms, not able to remember how it was he got there. He's tucked beneath the alpha's chin with his face pressed into the man's neck, and when he shifts slightly, he notices that something is poking him in the stomach. Pulling back slightly and looking down, he snorts when he sees Derek's morning wood trapped in between their bodies. His head aches a little bit, and when he glances over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand, he knows why. He's slept for longer than he probably should have, the minute hand inching closer to the three, but he can't really blame himself because he feels so damn warm, comfortable and content. When he pulls away fully from Derek, he stares down at his mate's face and frowns when he sees the dark circles that have formed beneath the alpha's eyes. This causes a faint memory to return to him, of waking up temporarily in the middle of the night to find Derek still wide awake. He wonders how long it took the man to fall asleep as well, and he decides to let him sleep for a while longer as he shuffles over to the side of the mattress and stands, stretching his arms high above his head and twisting his body from side to side to pop all of his joints.

Fully dressed, Stiles descends the stairs and makes his way through to the kitchen. He's a little surprised when he doesn't see a single beta there in the house with him and that all of the rubbish from the previous night's dinner is still left in the living room. He switches on the coffee maker, desperate for a mug of the brown liquid to perk him up and get him ready for the remainder of the day. It's not long before he hears movement upstairs and sure enough, a couple of minutes later as he's taking his first, glorious sip of coffee, Derek enters the kitchen looking like an adorably rumpled puppy.

Derek couldn't be bothered to dress himself properly before going to see where Stiles had gotten to, only finding the energy to slip a pair of sweatpants on before leaving the bedroom. He'd blinked his bleary eyes open soon after the teen had gotten out of bed, his wolf whining in his head because their mate wasn't lying safe next to them anymore. He barely manages to croak out a response when he hears Stiles greet him cheerily, but he does stare up at the teen gratefully when a second mug of coffee is held up under his nose. He watches Stiles wander around the kitchen with tired eyes, his stomach showing its interest when the smell of pancakes reaches his nose. It doesn't take him long to down his coffee and move on to his second, taking more time to savour this one now that he's thankfully beginning to feel the caffeine's effects. He shakes his head when his breakfast is placed on the surface in front of him, a ridiculous whipped cream smile sprayed on the topmost pancake. He doesn't comment on it and just starts eating immediately, not even waiting for Stiles to get him a fork and choosing instead to just pick the small stack up in his hands.

"You look like crap," Stiles points out bluntly, taking a seat on the stool around the island as well, right next to Derek. He's understating it, really; the alpha looks absolutely terrible. He's never seen the man look this bad unless it's in the aftermath of battle. It worries him, and he waits for an answer before making a start on his own breakfast.

Finishing chewing the food in his mouth and swallowing, Derek nods in response, thinking that he feels that way, too. "Yeah, my wolf wouldn't let me sleep," he replies, shrugging. "No idea why." Just like he'd thought, as soon as Stiles had fallen asleep against him again, he'd been unable to join the teen and found himself just lying there for hours on end before his eyes finally slipped closed around midday. If he could, he'd take his wolf out of his head and throttle it for keep him up for so long.

Stiles frowns at Derek's explanation, still unable to wrap his head around the concept of 'the wolf', no matter how many times it's explained to him. Scott had told him soon after he was turned that it's apparently like having two people in your head, but at the same time they're still one; the wolf just boils everything down to your base instincts. He guesses that he'll never really get it unless he asks for the bite, which he still doesn't ever see himself doing. Maybe if, God forbid, he gets injured near the point of death in the future, Derek will turn him and he'll finally get it, but the issue isn't pressing enough for him to contemplate taking that plunge under any different circumstance. "That sucks," he sympathises, reaching out and rubbing a hand up and down Derek's back a couple of times before leaving it resting just above the waistband of the man's sweats. "It's a good thing we don't have anything planned for today, huh?"

"You can say that again..." Derek mumbles, licking the last remnants of whipped cream from his fingers, his last pancake gone. He gets up and walks through to the living room, staring longingly at the sofa before deciding that, fuck it, he might as well just give in and laze about on it all day while watching mindless television. It's not like he gives into that impulse often, so he doesn't feel bad about letting himself flop down on the soft cushions and snuggling up.

When he picks up the television remote, however, Derek groans loudly when he sees that the empty pizza boxes are blocking his view of the screen. "Stiles!" he yells, his voice incredibly whiny. He cringes internally as he hears himself, not liking that he can sound like that. "Come help me..."

"What's up?" Stiles asks, drying his hands after washing the dishes and sticking his head around the doorframe to meet Derek's pleading gaze. He rolls his eyes when the alpha simply gestures to the coffee table, his arm flopping pathetically down on the floor afterward. Like the good mate he is, he makes short work of clearing up all of the leftover boxes and containers, having to make a couple of trips to shove it all inside of the recycling bin. When he gets back through to the living room, he finds Derek stretched out on the sofa, his arms behind his head as he stares blankly up at the television. His mate still looks pretty bad, so he takes pity on the man and retrieves a snuggly-soft blanket from the airing cupboard and drapes it over him, almost like he's tucking in a child at night. "Alright, I still have a bunch of stuff to do around the house, but I want you to just lie here and relax, Mr., OK?" He points a stern finger down at Derek and doesn't relent until he gets a nod in return.

Derek doesn't voice any complaints. Though he usually likes to help Stiles out with the housework, he doesn't think he could get up again even if he tried. He doesn't really focus on much of anything, his eyes slipping closed eventually as he listens to the combined sounds of the television and Stiles bustling between rooms.

The laundry is Stiles' first task. He gathers up everything he can find and carries it all down to the laundry room, splitting it all up into lights, darks and colours. He's glad that their machine is slightly larger than average since there's a substantial amount to get through. It's not just his and Derek's clothes that need a clean, either; he found piles in each of the betas' rooms, the dirty clothes they'd discarded after their volleyball game the previous day being the most recent additions. It's tough to keep track of it all, so he just does his best to figure what belongs to whom and decides to ignore any complaints that may be thrown his way later. They've usually come from Jackson or Erica in the past, the two of them becoming particularly affronted should he ever dare to make a mistake and give them a garment that isn't theirs—" _Why on earth would I ever wear something like_ this?!". After doing all of the betas' clothes first, he moves onto his and Derek's, unable to resist holding the alpha's tank top from the day before up to his nose. He only tosses it in the machine with the rest after having a good sniff, the scent of his mate's sweat making him a little dizzy.

As usual, when he makes his way through all of the bedrooms on the second floor, he finds each of the betas' rooms left in disarray. Given the fact that none of them spend that much time up there when they hang out at the house, he's surprised that they still manage to create such a mess. He comes back downstairs with two full bin liners in his hands, huffing as he dumps them outside because they ended up being pretty heavy.

His next task is to check on the things he has growing in the back garden, so Stiles just walks around the house instead of going back inside, frowning in confusion when he gets to his destination and finds a couple of sizeable dents in the dirt of the vegetable patch. He stands there for almost a full minute as he tries to think of what could have caused them before coming to the conclusion that someone must have gotten clumsy with the volleyball yesterday and ruined his work. He huffs before tending to the dirt, checking to see whether anything deeper down has been disturbed. A relieved smile appears on his face when he sees that no damage has been caused, but still, he vows to find out which beta was responsible so that he can scold them and tell them to be more careful. His money is on Scott.

 _Speak of the devil_ , Stiles thinks after his phone beeps and he looks down at the screen to see a text from the careless beta. His friend wants to know if he'd like to come over that evening and have one of their old 'boys nights', stuffing their faces as they play video games and watch crappy movies.

The offer sounds incredibly tempting, but Stiles doesn't feel right leaving Derek alone in that moment, so he declines with the promise of doing it sometime in the following couple of weeks instead. He was probably only asked because Allison and Kira were both busy anyway. When he reenters the house, he finds that Derek has passed out, his arm hanging off the side of the sofa and the remote on the floor a couple of inches away from his hand. Stiles stands there in the doorway for a couple of minutes and just watches his mate sleep, pleased that the man is actually getting some now, since it really looked like he needed it earlier. After looking his fill, he tucks the blanket more securely around Derek's body—shushing his mate gently when the alpha shows signs of stirring and cooing at his cuteness when he immediately settles again—and carries on with his chores. He leaves the vacuuming for a later time, not wanting to disturb Derek's rest with something so loud.

All in all, Stiles is surprised when he finds himself finished with everything just two hours later, and he stands in his and Derek's bedroom after putting their clean laundry away, wondering what the hell he should do now. He regrets turning Scott down earlier, but not enough to actually pick up his phone and send another text to the beta. Instead, he sighs and heads back down to the living room, staring at Derek longingly before shrugging and carefully climbing over the alpha. He manages to get himself beneath the warm blanket relatively easily, wedging himself between the back of the sofa and his mate's strong body before resting his head on the man's chest and slinging an arm around his waist. The television is still on, and he just lies there and watches it at first, not really feeling tired himself. Still, after a while, he finds himself getting incredibly comfortable as his eyes drift away from whatever show is currently playing to settle on Derek's slack face.

The alpha looks years younger in sleep, a fact that still melts Stiles' heart and reminds him that his mate isn't as tough as he seems beneath all of his bravado. Grinning to himself, he manages to slide his phone out of his jeans pocket and snaps a quick picture, pressing his lips to Derek's bearded jaw and looking cheekily up at the camera. His smile morphs into something more affectionate when he sees the result and he immediately sets it as his lock screen wallpaper. Derek probably wouldn't approve, but he figures that what the man doesn't know won't hurt him.

* * *

_\- Saturday, August 18th, 2012 -_

Luckily, for the rest of the week, Derek's sleeping pattern returns to normal and he doesn't have another problem getting the rest he needs. Before he knows it, the following weekend has arrived and Stiles has roped him into joining himself and Charlie as he shows the girl around Beacon Hills. He's not too thrilled about it, but he decides to give her a chance since his mate can't seem to stop going on about her. It's a bit annoying if he's honest with himself, and his wolf isn't too sure what to think of their mate making a new friend outside of the pack. Nevertheless, he walks downstairs on Saturday morning after Stiles calls up to him impatiently, telling him to get a move on so that they're not late picking Charlie up. "Alright, I'm coming!" he yells back exasperatedly, jumping the last few stairs and landing gracefully in the foyer. He ignores Stiles' scoff and uncurls his body before taking his leather jacket from its hook on the wall and slipping it on.

"You certainly took your time," Stiles comments as he opens the door and marches outside, sending a smirk back at Derek when the alpha releases a mock threatening growl in his direction. "Save the growling for the bedroom, Sourwolf... Now, unlock the car, please."

"Keep your pants on," Derek responds, taking his time descending the front steps and walking across the grass. "I don't see why you're in such a rush, anyway. I doubt she'd care if we ended up being a few minutes late. It wouldn't be the end of the world..." He sticks his keys in the door and does as Stiles ordered anyway, rolling his eyes when the teen immediately flings the passenger door open and all but throws himself in his seat. He's about to ask where Charlie lives, since he didn't pay that much attention when Stiles told him the first time, when his mate thrusts his phone in his face, a tinny, female voice coming from the speaker that begins giving directions. He takes the device and fits it snugly in the compartment on the dashboard before pulling up the parking brake, making a u-turn and driving the car down to the main road. "So...what exactly are we going to be showing her today?"

Stiles glances at Derek before returning to look out of the window to his right. "Oh, we'll be taking her 'round all of the best places in town," he explains easily, counting all of his old haunts off on his fingers. He hasn't been to a lot of them in a while, so he thinks it'll be nice to revisit them now. "And as much as your serious face turns me on, I think we're meeting her mom before we leave, so no glaring! I want your eyebrows to behave themselves so we can make a good impression." Sure enough, when he looks back over at Derek, he finds that his mate is already wearing the sour expression that resulted in his nickname. He reaches over and smoothes the pad of his thumb over the wrinkled skin between the alpha's eyebrows, repeating the movement until the man's face relaxes again. "That's better!"

When Stiles goes to take his fingers back, Derek turns his head and bites down on them lightly, looking off to the left to keep his eyes on the road. He shakes his head a little before releasing the teen, hoping he'll get the message to never do that again. Still following the directions being given to him by his mate's phone, he smirks to himself when he overhears Stiles grumbling quietly in his seat.

Rubbing at the teeth marks on his fingers, Stiles sits and pouts. He notices that Derek appears to be ignoring him now and takes his cue from the man, ignoring him right back. They sit in playful silence for the remainder of the ride until Derek pulls the car up outside of a small, modern-looking house. The place is two storeys, painted a unassuming beige on one side with wood panelling on the other. Stiles peers through the passenger-side window and nods when he sees the number written above the front door, taking his phone back and letting out a sigh of relief when he sees that they've made it just in the nick of time. He exits the Camaro and waits for Derek to do the same before jogging up the front steps and knocking on the door. They stand side by side for the few seconds it takes for someone to answer his call, glancing around the area with mild interest. He hasn't been to this street since the new housing development was put in several months previous, so everything about it is new to him. He returns his gaze to the door when it swings open suddenly, revealing Charlie on the other side.

Throwing herself at the boy in front of her, Charlie wraps her arms around Stiles' neck and hugs him tightly. "Stiles! I'm so glad you showed up!" she greets, keeping the embrace going for several seconds longer. She only lets up when she hears a strange noise coming from right next to them. Her eyes widen when she sees Derek standing a couple of inches away, the man's eyes narrowed and his top lip curled back in a fierce snarl. She immediately releases Stiles and backs away.

Stiles smacks Derek on his chest and gives the alpha a pointed look when he snaps out of his glaring. "Way to make a good first impression, Mr.," he chastises lightly, bumping their shoulders together and offering Charlie a reassuring smile to try and defuse the tension that has suddenly appeared. Turning back to Derek, he nods approvingly when he sees that the man looks sufficiently ashamed of himself. Although he's pleased that his mate appears to regret his earlier abrasiveness, he doesn't want to see that hangdog expression on his face any longer than he has to, so he moves the conversation along. "Now, care to try again?" He watches as Derek sticks out his hand and looks up at Charlie, his face impassive. It's a start, Stiles supposes. He hopes things between the two become more friendly as the day wears on, and he plans to make that hope a reality if it kills him. He wants them to get along.

Derek doesn't really know what came over him when Charlie hugged Stiles. After shaking the girl's hand, he thinks about his actions as he follows Stiles into the house. He guesses it's because he doesn't know her and doesn't trust her yet around his mate, especially not enough to be comfortable with physical contact between the two teens. It reminds him of how territorial his wolf had been the first few weeks after he and Stiles sealed their bond. Not even the pack was safe from his wrath should they get too close to his new mate. It was incredibly embarrassing after it all calmed down.

When Charlie offers to get her guests a beverage, both Stiles and Derek refuse, having already taken care of that before they left their house earlier. "My mom should be down in a couple of minutes..." she says awkwardly, taking a seat opposite the two boys. She eyes Derek critically, trying to see beneath the hard exterior to the 'cuddly teddy bear' Stiles had said was there. She doesn't see it yet.

All three of their heads turn to face the stairs when they hear footsteps approaching. A woman comes into the room, her long, black silk dress billowing around her feet. The fabric is broken up with small sections of fine lace. Stiles assumes this is Charlie's mother. The woman is very tall, probably only an inch or two shorter than Derek, and her skin bears a healthy-looking tan, a stark contrast to the paleness of her daughter. Her black hair is slicked up into a high ponytail, and his eyes widen when he gets a glimpse of how long it is, the ends almost reaching down to her waist.

The woman glances between the two strangers on her sofa before settling her eyes on the younger of the two. "Ah, I was wondering when you would get here," she says amiably as she floats over to the teen and makes to greet him. She smiles kindly when the boy rushes to his feet and sticks out a shaking hand, obviously nervous. "Relax, child; I'm not going to bite you or something. My name is Elizabeth. Stiles, is it?" She takes the boy's hand when he nods hastily, nodding her acceptance when he gushes out that he's happy to finally meet her. She glances over her shoulder at Charlie, curious about what tales her daughter has been telling. She'll have to ask later. After she releases Stiles' hand, her eyes land on the unfriendly-looking man still sitting on the sofa and quirks an eyebrow at him speculatively, wondering who he is. "And you are?"

Stiles speaks up before his mate can answer, figuring it's better if he makes the introduction himself so that the alpha doesn't potentially mess it up. "This is my boyfriend, Derek Hale," he explains, watching nervously and breathing in deeply through his nose when the man lays on the charm thick. It reminds him of the time not long after they'd met, when they'd sneaked into the sheriff's station and Derek had distracted the woman behind the desk so he could slip past unnoticed. The sight makes him want to roll his eyes now just as much as it did back then. It's probably not discernible to anybody who doesn't know the alpha well, but to him, he can instantly see that Derek's smile is fake. It doesn't fully reach his eyes and it's nowhere near as beautiful as his genuine one, which Stiles still doesn't see as much as he'd like. He knows what Charlie's mother is thinking as her eyes flick between the two of them, and he's grateful when she doesn't point out the age difference like Charlie had done before. He's almost eighteen anyway, so he doesn't feel that it matters in the slightest.

"I see..." Elizabeth says slowly, getting a strange expression on her face that she instantly shakes off. From then on, her face becomes considerably more congenial. "Well, it's lovely to the meet the two of you. It was very kind of you to offer to show my daughter around and I want you to know that I appreciate it. I work full-time, so I haven't been able to do it myself yet."

"It's no problem, really. We're happy to do it," Stiles assures, elbowing Derek in the ribs as subtly as he can to get the man to nod along and keep up his friendly act. The smile the alpha plasters back on his face looks particularly wooden, so much so that Stiles knows it must look that way to everyone else, too. He cringes internally. This meeting really isn't going the way he'd planned.

Elizabeth looks knowingly at Derek, not speaking until her unflinching gaze causes the man to look away. Turning back to Stiles, she reaches out and rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "I might admit that I had my reservations about this when Charlie asked me about it last week, but after meeting you, I can tell she'll be in good hands," she says, checking her watch. "Now, I really must be off; I'm almost late for work. I swear, if I'd known that damned bank would make me work on the weekends, I never would've taken this job... Have fun, you three!" She grabs her purse from where it rests in an armchair before marching out the door with a wave.

"So...I think that went pretty well," Stiles comments, breaking the silence that has fallen over the room. As soon as the sound of Elizabeth's car disappears, he turns to look at Charlie expectantly. "So, should we get going as well?" Before the girl can lead the way out of the house, he looks off to the side and sees gladly that Derek doesn't appear to be paying close attention to them. He whips out his phone and sends off a quick text to Charlie, telling her that she should compliment the alpha's car to get him to begin warming up to her. He knows that the best way for someone to ingratiate themselves with his mate is to say something nice about his wheels. When Charlie nods her agreement, they both head outside. He listens intently to the shuffling of Derek's footsteps behind them and thinks that he's really going to have to give the alpha a good kick up the butt when they get home later.

Putting it out of his mind of now, Stiles smiles widely when Charlie begins gushing about how fabulous she finds the Camaro. At the compliment, he glances sideways and sees that Derek is eyeing Charlie warily, almost as if the man is deciding whether the girl is being sarcastic or not. Eventually, he's pleased when Derek seems to finally drop his icy exterior. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for his genius.

Stiles sits in the back of the car with Charlie and gives Derek directions. He shows his new friend most of the town, all of the parts he deems to be at least acceptable places in which to kill time. At around two in the afternoon, Derek's stomach begins to rumble. This makes both Charlie and Stiles realise that they're also hungry, so they make a detour to _Steve's Diner_ , the establishment Derek had taken him to once while Landon was trying to kill them all. They've revisited the place a couple of times since then when Stiles couldn't be bothered to cook anything or order takeout, and he was glad to get an unfamiliar waitress on both occasions. Tiffany, the rude waitress who'd served them during their first visit, was nowhere to be found.

Unfortunately, as soon as Stiles walks through the diner's entrance, he sees the unlikeable girl stood right in front of them. From the way her eyes narrow, he knows she remembers them, too. Still, he tries to put his best foot forward and avoid any conflict in deference to Charlie. The plan lasts all of two minutes before loud bickering can be heard coming from behind the door that says 'Staff Only'. Derek relays the gist of the heated 'discussion' when he asks, giving Charlie the excuse that he just has really good ears.

"Apparently she's refusing to wait on us again," Derek says disinterestedly, staring down at his menu as he tries to decide what to order. He hopes the woman doesn't dare to spit in his food. As quick as the worry had come, it disappears again and his head snaps up when he hears what he assumes is her manager get tired of her 'bullcrap'—the other man's words, not his—and tell her that she's fired. Tiffany comes storming out of the door a few seconds later and exits the building after throwing a scathing glare in his direction.

"What was all that about?" Charlie asks curiously, staring out of the window and watching Tiffany angrily slam her car door and peel out of the parking lot. She thinks the woman actually leaves skid marks on the concrete.

Stiles tries to wipe the smirk off of his face, but gives up after a couple of seconds when he finds he cannot get his facial muscles to cooperate. "That's probably my fault," he explains, chuckling quietly and glancing sideways at Derek. A barely-there smile is on the alpha's lips, too, though the man seems to be trying to appear like the scene they just witnessed didn't affect him. "The first time Derek brought me here, she tried to hit on him right in front of me. I didn't like that, so...I may have given her a very clear message that he was already taken. She was obviously still holding a grudge, but what can you do?"

The last stop on Charlie's tour ends up being one of the clearings out in the preserve, the one that Stiles used to frequent with Scott whenever they managed to get their hands on some alcohol. Revisiting it now brings back a lot of memories of simpler times, and when he looks back on them he realises that, while he'd thought he was happy then, it's nothing compared to the way his life is now. He wouldn't go back for anything, not even to see his dad alive again. He feels a little guilty for thinking that way, but he knows the man would understand. "So basically, there's not much to this place except that it's good to come to if you ever need some time alone," he says, trying to balance himself on the very edge of a tree stump. He isn't successful and ends up almost toppling over, but he manages to play it off well for once. "And if you have some booze with you, it's even better. You can just sit out here and look up at all the stars as you lament how shitty your life is." He keeps his tone light to let Charlie know that he's only joking, for the most part, at least.

"I've never been drunk before," Charlie muses, leaning against one of the tree trunks and looking up at the sky. It's a pleasant blue that makes her feel incredibly calm and safe. She turns to Derek, who stands a couple of paces away from Stiles. The man looks like he's on constant alert, ready to catch the boy should he actually fall over. From what the rest of his friends have told her, it's highly probable. "Did you get it for him, Derek?"

Derek flicks his eyes over to Charlie for a brief second before settling them once more on his wandering mate. "No," he says simply, his attitude having soured throughout the day despite Stiles' efforts to keep them up. He grudgingly admits to himself that Charlie isn't as annoying as he thought she'd be, but that doesn't mean he actually likes the girl yet. "I'd never buy alcohol for someone who's underage and I don't condone Stiles and everyone else drinking, but having said that, I allow it if they manage to get it elsewhere and stay responsible." Luckily, no one in the pack has thus far gotten into any trouble while under the influence, but he figures that it's just a matter of time until they do. He makes a bet with himself that it'll be either Erica or Scott, or maybe Jackson.

Soon enough, the sun starts to set in the sky and they make their way back out of the preserve, heading in the direction of the Camaro so Derek can drive Charlie home. The girl keeps the conversation flowing the entire way, and Derek ends up walking a few feet behind the two teenagers as they talk. She looks back over her shoulder at the man, frowning at the way he keeps his eyes on his feet. Although she still hasn't seen Derek's 'cuddly' personality firsthand yet, she has witnessed glimpses throughout the day that made her realise just how much the man loves Stiles. They were heartwarming to see. "So, how did you and Derek actually meet?" Charlie asks the other teen, getting slightly out of breath from all of the walking. She frowns at herself and thinks that she really needs to adopt a more active lifestyle. "I mean, I know you told me briefly last week, but I want _all_ the details! Let me live vicariously."

"We met in the preserve, actually. It was the day after me and Scott came here at night like I told you before. He'd lost his inhaler and we were looking for it when Derek showed up and told us to leave because it was 'private property'," Stiles begins, more than happy to recount the progression of his and his mate's relationship. It makes for a good story, he feels. "At first, we absolutely hated each other. He was really grumpy and I was loud and obnoxious, so it was a recipe for disaster, really. I mean, objectively, I could see he was absolutely fucking gorgeous, but yeah...not very friendly." He glances back and winks at Derek when he sees that the man is staring at him with wide eyes and pink-tipped ears. "Anyway, we kept getting thrown into all these weird situations together, and as my friends and I grew closer together, he was always lumped in with us, the poor sucker. After a while, I began seeing who he was underneath all of the glaring and the eyebrows and I must have calmed down or something, because he suddenly started acting a lot nicer toward me.

"We found out we had more in common than we thought we did, and eventually I got confused at all the things he began doing for me, like comforting me if I got upset or whatever, so I asked him about it. He just came right out and told me he had feelings for me, and that was that. We've been together ever since."

By this point, the trees begin to part and the Camaro comes into view. Stiles is about to get in the backseat with Charlie again when he's stopped and pulled against a firm, warm body. He gasps in shock and just holds on for the ride as Derek's tongue invades his mouth. Before he knows it, he's standing alone outside of the car, Charlie cackling within and Derek sitting in the driver's seat, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary has just happened. Blinking dumbly, Stiles finally opens his door and gets in.

* * *

When they drop Charlie off at her house, Stiles walks her to the door to bid her goodbye. He finds himself roped into another hug and returns it easily, having always been a tactile person. The girl places a light kiss on his cheek before she disappears behind the closed front door, leaving Stiles to walk back down the steps to rejoin Derek in the car.

Derek's hands grip the steering wheel tightly as he drives them back home. He'd seen the whole scene and is now incensed. The trust he'd felt building for Charlie had been shattered by the display of affection, his wolf growling loudly in his mind at the mere sight of the seemingly innocent kiss she'd given their mate. Stiles appears to be completely oblivious to his internal struggles, the boy babbling on about who knows what. He can't focus his mind enough to make out more than every other word, a constant mantra of ' _mine-mate-claim_ ' running through his head on a loop.

Stiles seemingly remains oblivious to Derek's inner turmoil for the rest of the journey and continues talking even as they both walk through the front door. "I mean, I'm happy she seems to be settling in well, you know?" he rambles, hanging up his hoodie one of the the hooks that are screwed into the wall on the foyer wall. He's about to head through to the kitchen and make a start at preparing dinner for the two of them when his world blurs and his back connects with the wall painfully, the air knocked from his lungs. It takes him a couple of seconds to realise what has happened, and when he does, he blinks at Derek with wide, surprised eyes. The alpha stands close, his hands pinning him in place and his eyes glowing red, an expression of anger on his face as he breathes heavily. "You feeling OK there, buddy? What crawled up your butt?" He's confused at the sudden turn of events. He could sense that his mate was still slightly grumpy earlier in the car, but never did he think the man's temperament had declined this much. He almost recoils in fear when Derek leans forward until he can feel the alpha's mouth right next to his ear, his breath hot as it blows across the lobe.

"Nothing's crawled up mine, but something sure as hell is gonna be crawling up yours soon..." Derek breathes, closing the distance between them and clamping down hard on Stiles' ear with his teeth. He sucks the flesh inside of his mouth and laves his tongue over the mark he just made to soothe it until he feels the teen's body begin to quiver against him. "You think it was a good idea to let her fawn all over you when I was just a few feet away? Was that your whole plan, to work me up and leave me hanging over and over again until I got sick of it and took back what's mine?"

His mind coming back to him when Derek finally releases his ear, Stiles stares up at the ceiling and tries to pull against the alpha's hands. It's pointless, though; his mate's grip is too strong. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," he answers, wrapping his legs around Derek's waist to stop himself from falling when the man lifts him up and starts walking up the stairs without comment.

After kicking the bedroom door closed with a slam, Derek tosses Stiles on the bed and immediately advances on the teen, crawling up across the mattress like an animal moving in on its prey. When he blankets his mate's body with his own, he pauses for a second and scents the air to make sure he's not actually scaring the boy, a smirk appearing on his lips when he can detect nothing but arousal and a little embarrassment. "I think you knew exactly what you were doing," he continues, planting his hands on either side of Stiles' head and leaning down until their noses are almost touching, keeping eye contact the entire time. "I think you secretly enjoyed all the attention your new little friend was giving you. I think you wanted me to get angry, but you see...that's just not very nice. I think I may have to teach you a lesson and re-stake my claim so you know just who you belong to..." The last three words are said at a whisper, and he watches with amusement as they cause Stiles' pupils to dilate even further until almost none of the teen's beautiful cinnamon-coloured irises can be seen. The pale skin of Stiles' neck flushes an inviting red, just begging to be bitten and marked. He plans on doing just that.

Leaving the bed, Derek shrugs out of his leather jacket and discards it carelessly on the floor, his shirt soon following before he begins unbuckling the belt looped through his jeans and pulling down the zipper. "Strip," he orders, still not taking his eyes off of the body lying prostrate on the bed. "I want you naked and waiting for me by the time I return." Without even looking back, Derek heads through to the bathroom to begin preparing for what he has planned.

Derek's mouth waters when he returns to the bedroom, the sight of Stiles positioned perfectly as he waits making his wolf go insane inside of his head. He carries two items in his left hand, and he puts them down on the floor next to the bed before the teen can turn his head and see them ahead of time. Now fully naked himself, his erect cock bobs heavily between his legs as he shuffles onto the bed and positions himself between Stiles' spread legs. He crouches down so that their faces are close again. "You want to know what I'm gonna do to you?" he asks teasingly, his voice dripping sex as he stares down into Stiles' eyes. He runs his hands up the teen's sides and chuckles when his body jumps at his touch, Stiles' abdominal muscles twitching as he ghosts his fingers in a circle around his bellybutton. He doesn't continue until the boy beneath him nods jerkily. "I'm gonna mark up every inch of your body with my mouth until you're covered in my marks. I'm gonna suck you off and feed you your own come, then I'm gonna open you up on my tongue and fingers and keep going until you come again from that alone. I'm gonna keep going until you're begging me to fuck you, begging me to shove my cock so far up inside of you that you won't be able to walk straight for days.

"I'm gonna fuck you and knot you so hard and make you come over and over and over again until you're coming dry..." A faint whiff of pre-come hits Derek's nose, and he looks down to see that a bead of the stuff is forming at the slit of Stiles' cock. "You want that?" he asks, shaking his head when the teen just nods again. He wants to hear his mate actually say the words.

Stiles' mouth feels incredibly dry, and it takes him a couple of seconds to find the strength to open his mouth and respond. "God, yes..." he breathes, his voice cracking because he's so turned on. He loves it whenever Derek gets all dominant and possessive like this in the bedroom, though it doesn't happen nearly as often as he'd like it to. He supposes that he'll just have to work the alpha up again whenever he wants it like this in the future, like he'd apparently done earlier with Charlie.

Derek closes the distance between them and devours Stiles' mouth, sucking on the teen's tongue and running his own around it before pulling back and biting down on his bottom lip. He drags it with him when he pulls back and only releases it when he hears Stiles whimper quietly. "Good boy," he whispers fondly, cupping his mate's cheek and stroking his thumb across his kiss-swollen lips. "Just keep being a good boy for me and you'll get what you want, but only when I say it's time, OK?" He lets Stiles get away with a simple nod for now, smiling down at him when the teen leans into his hand and looks up at him with wide, lust-filled eyes. He strokes down along Stiles' long throat, feeling the tendons jump under his touch and staring at the way his Adam's apple bobs. He seals his mouth over it and sucks hard, getting just the reaction he was hoping for when Stiles arches up into him, their hard lengths rubbing together, slick and messy with pre-come.

Rubbing his face over the pale skin of Stiles' neck so that his facial hair scrapes across it deliciously, Derek keeps his hips moving and supports himself his left hand as he runs his right down the teen's torso, pausing to tweak his nipple none too gently. Stiles cries out beneath him, and he grins into his mate's collarbone before moving down and sealing his lips around his other nipple, swirling his tongue around the raised nub and biting down on it. He keeps going as Stiles practically thrashes beneath him, a litany of desperate noises escaping the teen's mouth as he moves past the point of pleasure and into pain.

When he withdraws his mouth, Derek stares down at his handiwork and feels a deep sense of satisfaction when he sees that both of Stiles' nipples look swollen and red, overworked. Still, he can't resist going one step further and rubbing his cheek against them both, his beard irritating the already over-sensitised nubs until Stiles pushes weakly at his head. He acquiesces to the teen's silent command and relents, moving further down instead until Stiles' straining erection is right in front of his face. The teen's cock is rock-hard and red, desperate for some stimulation and relief. He wastes no time and wraps his lips around it, immediately sinking all the way down the shaft until his nose is buried in the curls at the base. The scent of his mate drives his wolf crazy. He bobs his head up and down Stiles' length, the teen's hands tangling in his hair as he works.

It's not long before Derek senses that Stiles' first orgasm of the evening is approaching, the teen's thighs twitching on either side of his head and his hips jerking upward in little, aborted thrusts. He doesn't let up and sucks hard until the first spurt of come hits the back of his throat, not swallowing any of it and just letting it all gather in his mouth. When Stiles shakes through the aftershocks, he reluctantly pulls off and shuffles forward until he's staring down into his mate's flushed, sweaty face. Waiting until the teen's eyes blink open and look back at him blearily, he presses one of his fingers against Stiles' bottom lip until his mate gets the message and parts his lips. Opening his own mouth, he watches, entranced, as the teen's come drips down onto his waiting tongue. He chases after it, kissing Stiles passionately and passing the taste back and forth between them both for a minute before retreating and instructing the teen to swallow his own mess. He fits his hands lightly around Stiles' neck and feels his throat working as his mate does as he asked.

Pleased, Derek smiles down at Stiles for a second before flipping the teen over onto his hands and knees without warning. He slides into place behind Stiles and cups his palms around his mate's pale, mole-dotted ass, squeezing a couple of times and smirking to himself when the teen's body jolts forward at his touch. "Mine..." he breaths as he pulls Stiles' cheeks apart and stares hungrily at the tight hole hidden between. He can easily see just how much his possessive declaration is affecting Stiles, the teen's body shaking with anticipation under his gaze.

Derek strokes his thumb down Stiles' crack, pausing to press insistently right at the teen's core before moving on and cupping his balls in a large hand. They try to draw up closer to their owner's body at his touch, but he doesn't let them, tugging on them lightly instead to keep them hanging low. Leaning forward, he noses across Stiles' left cheek, nipping at the skin gently with his teeth. His right hand comes down harshly against its twin when he feels his mate try to jerk away from his mouth, his palm slapping loudly against the pale globe and causing Stiles to whine high in his throat. "Stay still..." he orders, looking sideways and finding that he actually quite likes the faint red handprint that he finds on the teen's firm cheek. In fact, he likes it so much that he repeats his earlier action, his palm connecting harshly with the already-inflamed skin. He smiles, pleased, when Stiles doesn't move this time, though the teen doesn't quite manage to muffle the small sound he makes in the pillow. He doesn't like that. "Uh-uh. No hiding, love." He grips the hair at the back of Stiles' head and turns him to the side so that his face is no longer buried in the pillow. "I want to hear every little noise I can get out of you..."

When he sees that Stiles looks a little unsure of himself, Derek runs his hands soothingly up and down the long curve of the teen's back until his body loses its tension. "There you go," he says quietly, sliding his palms down Stiles' spine one last time before spreading the teen's cheeks once more. He just dives straight in now, lapping at the tight rim and squeezing the smooth globes repeatedly with his hands to coax the clenched muscle to relax and grant him entrance. He moans when he manages to dip the tip of his tongue inside, the taste of Stiles' most intimate place bursting across his tastebuds.

Easing the index finger of his right hand inside of Stiles' ass alongside his tongue, Derek becomes ravenous, wanting to just eat up his mate and consume him. His finger sinks in to the last knuckle with his saliva's help, and he searches around for a couple of seconds until he finds what he's looking for. Stiles whimpers noisily above him as he rubs across the teen's prostate unrelentingly.

With his other hand, Derek reaches beneath Stiles' body and wraps his fingers around his mate's reawakening erection, jacking him off slowly as the flesh fills out and grows hard in his grip. The noises falling from the teen's mouth become more desperate as he works his mouth, finger and hand in sync with each other, looking to wangle a second orgasm from the boy. Stiles appears torn between rutting forward into his hand and pushing his ass back to get more of his tongue inside. Adding a second finger, Derek removes his mouth and rubs both digits against Stiles' prostate, sitting up as straight as he can and staring down at the red face of his mate. The teen's eyes are clenched shut and his mouth his wide open as he pants out his pleasure.

"You gonna come for me?" Derek asks huskily, loving the way Stiles' ass clenches around his fingers each time the teen moves his hips. He can't wait to feel that tightness and warmth wrapped around his cock, his knot. As soon as he senses that Stiles is close, he cups his hand around the tip of his mate's cock and collects the come that shoots out when his orgasms hits, keeping up his assault on the teen's prostate to prolong it all.

When the last weak spurt of warmth hits his hand, Derek withdraws and spreads Stiles' come along his cock, slicking it up in preparation for the main event. He hastily wipes his hand off on the sheets before flipping Stiles onto his back again before the teen can slump over sideways. Bracketing Stiles' head in with his forearms, Derek leans over his mate and positions the head of his cock so that it rubs across the teen's stretched opening. "You want this?" he asks teasingly, pushing his hips forward a tiny bit so that he starts to breach Stiles' hole, only to pull back again before he actually gets inside. He does this a couple more times until the teen looks up at him with irritation clear in his eyes. He smirks. "Is that a yes?"

After Stiles breathes out his shaky assent, Derek finally allows himself to sink inside properly. There hasn't really been enough prep to avoid Stiles feeling any pain from the initial penetration, but he doesn't stop since he knows from earlier conversations that his mate actually quite likes the sting of it.

Derek holds himself still when his hips come flush with the firm globes of Stiles' ass, his heavy balls resting low against the smooth curve. Stiles is panting beneath him, the teen's hands grasping around his biceps tightly as he rides out the pain and gets used to the intense stretch. Just like he thought, the feel of Stiles' channel clenching tight and wet around him makes him want to pound into it without stopping, but that will come later. For now, when his mate gives him the go-ahead, he pulls out unerringly slowly. His pace is kept sedate, knowing that Stiles will soon be begging for more.

On and on it goes, Stiles tipping his head back and exposing his neck as Derek grazes the head of his cock against his prostate deliberately slowly on each thrust. Derek isn't one to pass up such an open invitation, so he leans down and bites and sucks his way across the flushed skin of his mate's neck. He only moves on to each new patch when he sees that the one he's been working on has been bruised enough so that his mark won't fade completely for days.

Stiles' hands end up fisted in Derek's hair, and the alpha can feel the vibrations of all of the teen's moans against his lips, making him attack the skin beneath him all the more fervently. He keeps going until he feels Stiles' fingers pull particularly hard on his hair, the teen's ass clenching down tight on his cock as his svelte body shudders beneath his own. Looking down between them, Derek sees Stiles' cock spurt feebly, only producing a couple of small strands of white, which immediately get smeared between their stomachs by his slow thrusts. Not nearly done with the boy yet, he goes back to attacking Stiles' skin with his mouth, not caring when his mate slumps back against the mattress, worn out. When he's finished, Derek levers himself back up on his arms and looks down at his handiwork, smirking in contentment when he sees that the entirety of Stiles' neck and chest is like a mosaic of hickies, every inch of the skin bearing his mark and claim. _There won't be any question about who he belongs to now_ , he thinks, his wolf howling with pride in his head, obviously in agreement.

"Please..."

The breathless plea gets Derek's attention, and he leans down and puts his ear close to Stiles' mouth so that he can hear the quiet sound better. "What was that?" he responds, knowing very well what his mate wants. Still, he's unwilling to actually give it to the boy until he hears him beg for it. "You want something? 'Cause if you do, you're gonna have to tell me..."

Stiles glares up at Derek with hazy eyes, grunting quietly when the alpha's cock strokes against his prostate again. "You asshole," he croaks out, gritting his teeth as he reaches up to tug on the man's thick, dark hair. "If you don't pick up the pace and really give it to me, we're never having sex again."

Derek looks down at Stiles with an eyebrow raised, impressed that the teen still has the mental capacity to sound so lucid. Clearly, he's not doing his job properly. Grinning toothily down at his mate, he allows his face to shift, his fangs coming out and poking against his bottom lip and his eyes glowing the fierce red that always causes a spike in Stiles' heartbeat. This time is no different, and his grin widens even more when he hears the teen's heart skip in his chest as he maintains eye contact. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" he whispers huskily, drawing his hips back once more and keeping them there for a few seconds, the head of his cock the only part remaining inside. When Stiles starts to look impatient again, he snaps his hips forward brutally and makes his pace punishing, his balls slapping audibly against the teen's ass.

The headboard smacks against the wall with each one of Derek's thrusts, so loud that he doesn't think even the soundproofing would stop it being heard around the whole house. His wolf thinks it's a shame that no one else is there in that moment to be witness to them claiming their mate in this way, though he himself is glad for it, knowing he wouldn't be able to look any of his pack in the eye ever again if they were.

When Stiles' nails rake particularly harshly across the shifting muscle of his back, Derek growls deeply and captures both of his mate's wrists in his hands, shoving them down into the pillow above the teen's head so that he's completely powerless. The fact that he can feel Stiles' cock valiantly trying to get hard again against his stomach lets him know that the teen is very much enjoying his rough treatment. His knot begins to form, swelling up slowly at the base of his cock, but he doesn't slow down. He keeps up his unrelenting pace, pushing through the feeble resistance Stiles' ass puts up as he shoves his growing knot through the tight ring again and again. Gradually, it gets harder and harder to pull out each time, and eventually he stops when he's sheathed completely, not wanting to accidentally harm his mate. There, surrounded by twitching warmth, his knot forms to completion and locks them together, his cock beginning to shoot rope after rope of thick come deep inside.

Even with the two of them locked together and his orgasm washing through him, Derek isn't done with Stiles just yet. No, he thinks his mate still has one last orgasm of his own in him, and to pull it out of the teen, he grinds his knot up against his prostate again and again. He smirks when Stiles cries out and whines constantly at the new onslaught, trying fruitlessly to pull his hands free of his grip.

Transferring both of Stiles' wrists to one hand, Derek runs the other down Stiles' body until it wraps around his mate's erection, stroking across it lightly. He makes sure to keep his touches gentle, knowing that the length is bound to be incredibly sensitive after being worked so much in such a short amount of time. He moves his hand in tandem with his hips, swiping his thumb across the slit at the same time his knot pushes against Stiles' prostate. It doesn't take long until he feels another orgasm rip its way through the teen's body, his cock pulsing in his hand without anything spurting forth from the slit, coming dry.

Stiles is nearly sobbing when Derek lets go of his cock, releasing his grip around the teen's wrists and shushing him affectionately. He deftly flips them around so that he's lying on his back with Stiles sprawled atop him, tucking his mate's face into his neck so that the teen can breathe in his scent as he strokes his hands up and down his sweat-slick back.

Stiles sniffles and hiccups one last time before going quiet, calmed by Derek's gentle caresses. He breathes open-mouthed against the alpha's neck, flicking his tongue out to lick across his dry lips and catching the tip of it on the tanned skin of his mate. He savours the salty taste. They lie like that until Derek's knot begins to go down.

Right as his softening cock slips free, Derek slides out from beneath Stiles' body and keeps him on his knees, the teen's ass still raised in the air. Before any of his come can leak out from his mate's wrecked hole, he picks up the second item he'd retrieved from the bathroom at the start of it all and slicks it quickly with lube before positioning it at Stiles' loose entrance. Pushing it forward gently, he's satisfied when it slides in smoothly, aided by both the lube and all of the come still buried deep inside. When the base of the plug sits flush against Stiles' cheeks, he sits back to admire how the blackness of it looks against the pale skin before easing the teen over onto his side.

"When the hell did you buy that...?" Stiles asks tiredly, sighing when Derek brings the sheets up to his waist.

"I've had it for a few weeks," Derek admits, a blush forming on his face as his more dominant side begins to recede. As much as he goes all in when Stiles works him up, when it's all over, he slips right back into his more timid mindset. It's a little annoying, but his mate has assured him in the past that it's highly endearing. "I was just waiting for the right opportunity to present itself so I could use it. This just seemed like a good time... Wait here, OK? I'm gonna go get us some water." With one last tender brush of his thumb across Stiles' cheekbone, he saunters downstairs and gets a glass out of the cupboard in the kitchen. He downs three glasses of the cool liquid himself before filling it a fourth time and bringing it back to the bedroom. "Here."

Stiles sits up with Derek's help, the alpha keeping a hand on his shoulder to support him as he reaches out for the glass with shaky arms. He groans quietly when the water hits his throat, which feels a little raw from all of the noises Derek had pulled out of him earlier. The action jostles the plug in his ass a little bit, and his breath hitches when it rubs up against his over-sensitive prostate. He thinks he covers it well enough, though, and when he hands the glass back to Derek, he allows himself to slump back into the pillows. His eyes close of their own volition when he feels the alpha's fingers stroking through his hair.

"Sleep, love," Derek whispers, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside Stiles. "I'll wake you up later so we can have a bite to eat, OK?" A small smile appears in his face as he watches his mate slip off into unconsciousness, well and truly worn out.


	7. Snow

Like Derek promised, Stiles is woken from his nap a little while later when the bed shifts and the smell of food invades his nostrils. He frowns as he opens his eyes, looking off to the side and finding Derek sat on edge of the mattress with a tray on his lap. Pushing himself up, he winces when his ass twinges, a reminder of the pummelling it had taken a short while ago. He doesn't mind it, though, finding that it's not bad enough to really be a problem. It's more of a pleasant ache. Rubbing at his eyes, he lowers his hands and returns his gaze to his mate, his brain having now caught up enough that he can actually register what it is he's seeing. Derek looks to have been busy while he was asleep, since the amount of food on the tray is a little staggering. He assumes that most of it is for the man himself, theorising that it's not just him that worked up quite the appetite with their earlier lovemaking. "How long was I out?" he asks, moving off to the side slightly when Derek makes to sit next to him against the pillows, the sheets ending up pooled around their waists. The alpha subsequently places the tray across both of their laps.

"A little over an hour," Derek answers quietly, switching on the bedside lamp when he notices that the sun has begun its descent, leaving the room to grow gradually darker in its absence. He glances sideways and frowns when he notices that the bruising on Stiles' neck and chest has grown quite a bit darker in the time he was out of the room. He can't help thinking now that he may have gone a little overboard, even if his wolf disagrees. "How are you feeling?"

Stiles looks up from the piece of toast he's munching on and meets Derek's concerned gaze, looking at himself when the man flicks is eyes pointedly down at his chest. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when he takes in the state of his body. He's surprised since he still feels alright, though he wonders how he's supposed to go to school on Monday looking like he's been mauled. "I'm fine, Sourwolf," he assures, taking another bite of his toast and smiling around the mouthful. He bumps their shoulders together when he sees that Derek still looks unsure. "Seriously, if I didn't like what you were doing, I would've told you, so stop worrying." It's still a little strange to him that Derek seems to switch so completely between two different mindsets in and out of sex, almost like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

His worry abated, Derek settles back into the pillows again and digs into his dinner, a comfortable silence falling over the room as they eat. He's pleased that Stiles appears to approve of his cooking, but he wouldn't put it past the teen to just be too hungry in that moment to care what it is he's shoving in his mouth.

When he's stuffed himself with as much food as his stomach can bear, Stiles pushes the tray sideways so that it rests solely on Derek's lap before shuffling sideways off of the bed. His gait is affected slightly by the plug still buried inside of his ass, but he manages to head through to the bathroom without toppling over or letting out a sound when his steps cause the plastic to brush up against his still over-sensitive prostate. Under the stark lighting of the bathroom, the marks on his chest and neck stand out even more against the paleness of his skin, and his runs a finger over a couple of the more severe bruises to see if they hurt at all. A sigh of relief escapes him when he finds they're more tender than outright painful, but he'll still have to kick Derek in the shin or something for attacking so much of his neck. The marks will be incredibly difficult to mask unless he wants to take a cue from Isaac and wear a scarf to school, which...no. He doesn't think he can pull that off the way the beta seems able to.

Deciding not to worry about it until tomorrow, he shuffles back through to the bedroom and finds that Derek has set the tray down on the floor and is now resting back against the pillows with a book open in his lap. "How long am I supposed to keep this thing in?" he asks casually, reluctantly retaking a seat next to the alpha, careful not to make any sudden movements that'll disturb the plug in his ass.

Putting his bookmark in the middle of the page he's currently on, Derek shuts the book and sets it on his nightstand. "Is it really that bad?" he asks, helping Stiles fit between his legs, the teen's back pressed against his chest. The worry that has clouded his features fades away again when Stiles sighs and shakes his head where it's positioned beneath his chin. He tucks his nose into his mate's hair as he feels his face heat up at what he's about to say. "Well, you don't have to keep it in at all if it annoys you or gets too uncomfortable, but I admit it is quite nice knowing that I'm still inside of you in a sense." His voice is dripping with embarrassment, since it's still difficult for him to admit the things he wants or likes outside of the heat and passion of their lovemaking. He keeps trying, though, knowing that Stiles is right whenever he says that communication is key if they want to maintain their healthy relationship.

Stiles reaches up and pats Derek's cheek blindly a couple of times before snuggling back into the alpha's warmth. He makes a quiet noise of contentment when Derek's arms wrap more securely around his torso, one of his hands rubbing back and forth across his stomach soothingly. He thinks he can definitely fall asleep like that, he's so relaxed. "You and your wolfy instincts..." he mumbles, closing his tired eyes. "You're lucky I either find them adorable or super hot, you know."

"I know I'm lucky," Derek responds, talking about more than just Stiles' acceptance of all of his little kinks and idiosyncrasies. He knows the teen knows what he means, as well.

"I love you, too, Sourwolf," Stiles whispers, the sound of Derek's breathing and the rising and falling of the man's chest doing a very good job of lulling him back to sleep. "Thanks for today; it means a lot to me that you tried, even if you didn't get there completely, you possessive little alpha wolf, you."

* * *

_\- Sunday, August 19th, 2012 -_

The following morning, while Derek is off downstairs, Stiles lies in bed and sends off a text to Lydia, asking her to come over to the house as soon as possible before the rest of the pack has a chance to arrive. He ends up having to plead with the girl for a while, since she protests having to leave her own house at such an early hour. Eventually, though, he locks his phone again and smiles to himself after succeeding, Lydia promising that she'll be there within half an hour. Her one stipulation was that there had better be a delicious breakfast waiting for her when she arrives. Reluctantly, he leaves the warmth of the bed and rushes to get ready for the girl, not bothering with a shirt and instead zipping his hoodie nearly all of the way up to cover most of the bruising Derek's overzealousness has caused.

When he gets downstairs, Stiles looks around the ground floor and frowns when he doesn't find Derek anywhere. After opening the door that leads down into the basement, he pauses when grunting noises reach his ears, guessing that the alpha must be getting in an early-morning workout.

Leaving the man to it and backtracking to the kitchen, Stiles makes a start at preparing an extravagant breakfast for Lydia. He can't produce anything too amazing given the time constraints, but he figures he'll be able to make do. The front door opens just as he's putting the finishing touches on the food, signalling the banshee's arrival. He carries the plate through to the living room and sets it down on the coffee table before walking into the foyer to greet her.

Lydia freezes when she looks up from her purse, her eyes immediately landing on the marks on Stiles' neck. "Well, now I know why you wanted me to bring this," she drawls, a smirk slipping onto her lips as she pulls out the makeup she has buried in her bag.

"You think this is bad..." Stiles responds, rolling his eyes as he lowers his hoodie's zipper a few inches and pulls the material to the side to reveal the expanse of his chest. His mouth curls into a wry smile when Lydia's eyes widen even more. "Apparently, this is what I get for letting Charlie hug me yesterday. Derek's such a goofball, I swear..." He leads the way through to the living room and sits down, pleased when Lydia nods approvingly at her breakfast before beginning to eat. "Anyway, I was wondering if this can be covered up; I'd rather not have to deal with all the staring and taunting I'm likely to get from everyone later, especially at school tomorrow."

"Well," Lydia begins, resting her plate on her lap and holding the bottle of foundation she'd brought with her up to Stiles' neck, "I'm not too sure this'll really work for you since your skin tone is a little different than mine, but we can give it a try. If it turns out it looks stupid, then I'll get another bottle later and stop by before school tomorrow so you can use it, OK?"

When all of the food is gone, Lydia drags Stiles off to one of the bathrooms and sits him down on the toilet seat, instructing him to take off his hoodie so she can acceptably cover every inch of marked skin. She pauses for a couple of seconds to admire the boy's torso, thinking that if she'd known when she and Jackson were broken up and Stiles was still pursuing her that he was hiding that body beneath all of those layers, she might've actually been tempted to accept his many advances. She only snaps out of her staring when Stiles waves a hand in front of her face a couple of times to reclaim her attention, apologising before squirting a bit of the liquid foundation out onto the back of her hand to begin working. She snorts knowingly when she sees the wince of discomfort that flashes across Stiles' face as he takes a seat on the closed toilet, knowing very well what caused it. After pulling her usual foundation brush from the depths of her bag as well, she dabs it in the stuff and blends it into the bruised skin of Stiles' neck. "Does it hurt?" she asks worriedly a short while later when she notices the occasional grimace flittering across the boy's features.

"What? Oh, no, not really," Stiles hastens to assure, allowing Lydia to continue. "It's a tiny bit sore, but if it keeps Derek happy then I don't mind it too much. Plus, it feels super good during, so..." He chuckles when the girl hums and nods her agreement.

"You're a good mate..." Lydia mutters eventually, knowing that she wouldn't be able to handle behaviour that possessive from Jackson. She guesses it must just be Derek's fear of losing people he loves rearing its ugly head again. Just like she thought might happen, when she finishes covering every inch of marred skin, she frowns when she sees that there's a noticeable change in tone where the foundation ends. "Unless you want to walk around with an entire face of this stuff tomorrow, I'm afraid you're gonna have to wait for me to get another bottle because that looks kind of stupid." She pulls Stiles up and turns him to face the mirror so he can see what she's talking about.

Stiles groans when he sees what he looks like. The foundation is clearly a shade or two darker than his skin tone, meaning that he has to at least let the pack see him in this condition later should they come over. He doesn't see a reason why they wouldn't, the invasive and clingy bastards. Lydia holds out a packet of makeup wipes, which he dutifully takes and uses to scrub the foundation from his chest and neck again. He lets up on his vigorousness when he sees that his already-marked skin is turned red with his rough treatment, causing the subtle ache to become more noticeable. When he's done, he shrugs his hoodie back on and zips it up to his chin, pouting as he thinks of all the jokes he's likely to be the butt of for the remainder of the day. He hopes he'll be able to threaten his way out of it all, since that usually seems to work, no matter if the betas know he's only bluffing every time.

"Well, that was a waste of good makeup," Lydia muses as she examines the foundation bottle, frowning when she sees the amount within is considerably lesser than before because it had taken so much to cover the bruising completely. After cleaning her brush, she stuffs both items back in her bag and makes a note on her phone to stop by the drugstore on her way home later. She's not wasting money on the expensive stuff she usually uses. Stiles won't know the difference anyway, she excuses. "OK, out! I need to pee." She points a finger at the door to get the boy to leave the room.

"Thanks anyway," Stiles mumbles as he leaves, making his way back downstairs and cleaning up the mess he'd made fixing Lydia's breakfast. Halfway through, he hears shuffled footsteps behind him and glances over his shoulder, smiling at Derek when he sees that the man has finished his workout, sweat still dripping from his body. "Hey, Sourwolf."

Derek takes a bottle of water from the fridge and downs it in one go, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth when he's done to rid himself of the excess liquid that escaped the seal of his lips around the bottle's neck. He sniffs the air when he's done, finding an unusually potent scent of makeup in the room. He moves closer to its source, confusion breaking out on his face when he finds that the scent is coming from Stiles. It's unusual, his preternatural senses telling him that what he's smelling is usually only found around Lydia. "Why do you smell like makeup?" he asks finally, unable to come to a reasonable conclusion on his own. His bafflement only increases when Stiles drops one of the dishes back into the warm, soapy water in the sink, accidentally splashing himself.

Quickly patting down the wetness on his hoodie with a dish towel, Stiles drapes it over his shoulder in case any more unexpected questions cause him to lose his grip. "I got Lydia over here to see if she could help me cover all of the hickies you gave me yesterday," he explains quietly, holding his head high as he works to make it seem like he's not embarrassed. "It didn't work, though. I'm too pale."

When all he gets is silence in return, Stiles looks off to the side again and rolls his eyes when he sees that Derek is just frowning at him, unimpressed, his arms crossed over his chest. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll leave a couple of them alone, but there's no way I'm going to school tomorrow looking like I just went ten rounds in the ring and lost..." he offers, smiling and shaking his head fondly when his words seem to cause Derek's body to relax, the alpha's arms dropping back down to his sides as a sigh of relief escapes his mouth. "You're lucky you're adorable." He reaches out and ruffles the man's sweat-damp hair before finishing up the last couple of dishes still soaking in the sink. "Also, you need to go shower and change before I jump you again, because I don't think my ass is up for another round just yet. Plus, Lydia's still here, so... Off you go." He shoos Derek out of the room after drying his hands, thinking that he really needs to get started on completing his own homework later that day. He had planned on doing it the previous evening, but...he didn't get to it for obvious reasons. _Stupid Derek_ , he thinks, sighing before going to find his school bag.

* * *

After washing the sweat from his body, Derek exits his and Stiles' bedroom, pulling a black Henley over his head as he goes. As soon as he can see again, he jumps when he comes face-to-face with Lydia. The girl stands leaning against the wall, looking at him with a devious smile on her lips that causes trepidation to build in his gut. Smoothing down the hem of his shirt so that his stomach is no longer exposed, he narrows his eyes suspiciously at her. Their little staring contest goes on for a few more seconds before he finally decides to break the silence. "What are you doing?" he asks her, surprised that she was able to sneak up and surprise him. He clearly wasn't paying close enough attention to his surroundings. He shouldn't really have to, given that it's his property and no one ever comes out there but pack members, but still, it unnerves him whenever someone gets the drop on him. Snapping himself out of his thoughts, he refocuses his attention on Lydia and watches cautiously as the girl's hand moves to her skirt, almost as if he expects her to fling a fistful of wolfsbane at him or something. He doesn't think it's possible to be too careful around the unpredictable banshee, though.

Slipping her phone from her skirt pocket, Lydia shakes it in Derek's direction before answering. "I got a text a couple of minutes ago about something that concerns Stiles, and by extension, you," she begins, smile never leaving her lips. In fact, it widens when she sees the apprehension get more apparent on the alpha's face. She walks forward and curls a hand around Derek's bicep, leading him toward the stairs. "So, you're going to be coming with me to take care of it. Get your shoes on and don't forget your wallet, because you'll be needing it." Not waiting around to see if Derek actually does as she says, Lydia marches straight out through the front door, leaving it open behind herself and hopping into her car to wait for the wolf.

Derek is left standing in the foyer, staring after Lydia, perplexed. He wonders what horrors the girl is going to put him through if he actually decides to go with her. Shaking his head, he listens attentively for Stiles and heads in the direction of the backyard when he hears noise coming from there. When he gets outside, he finds his mate kneeling down next to the vegetable patch, pulling up carrots.

When he hears the back door open, Stiles glances up and smiles at Derek when he sees the alpha walking toward him. His mate's hair is still damp from the shower, but he thinks the man looks particularly delicious in his dark clothes, his shirt clinging to the muscles of his torso. "Hey, what's up?" he greets, continuing with his work. As he fills the bucket positioned on the ground next to himself, he thinks he probably planted a few too many carrots and he wonders how he's going to get the pack to eat all of them before they go off. Perhaps some sort of stew would be a good way to go, though he'll have to make sure there's an unreasonable amount of meat in the thing as well so the wolves don't complain.

"Lydia's dragging me God knows where, so I'm probably going to be gone for a while," Derek explains, crossing his arms over his chest and lamenting melodramatically to himself about how difficult his life is. "Are you going to be OK here for a little bit?"

Nodding, Stiles gets to his feet and winces when the action stretches his aching thigh muscles, his legs protesting the movement since they've been bent in the same position for so long. "Yeah, of course I'll be fine," he responds, pulling off his gloves and tossing them carelessly atop the carrots in the bucket still at his feet. He steps closer and presses a chaste kiss to Derek's lips, smiling when the alpha tries to follow after he pulls away. "You'd better not keep Lydia waiting. You know what'll happen if you do. Need I remind you of what happened the last time somewhere dared to do just that." His smile shifts into something a little more evil when Derek's face pales, the man in the process of recalling what he's talking about.

Derek bids a hasty farewell to Stiles before practically running back into the house and through the front door on the other side. He remembers the particular pack night to which his mate was referring, when Jackson had been late getting back from the grocery store. Stiles had sent him out to get the special ingredients Lydia insisted she needed for her dinner that evening. The beta's lateness had caused the rest of the food to go cold, since the girl wouldn't let Stiles serve everybody else until hers was ready as well. Jackson's penance for his little infraction was being made to strip completely naked and run laps around the house for half an hour. Erica had insisted the curtains be kept open in the dining room so that she could laugh at his humiliation during the entirety of the meal. Derek really doesn't want to be inflicted with the same punishment, so he's relieved when he sees that Lydia doesn't appear to be too ticked off when he finally slides into the passenger seat of her car. He doesn't think Stiles would let the girl do something like that to him, but he'd rather not risk it.

When Lydia starts the car without speaking and begins driving, she notices out of the corner of her eye that Derek keeps glancing nervously over at her. She grins back at him, giggling when the man swallows tightly. "Relax, Derek; I'm not gonna make you do anything terrible," she assures after a few more seconds of letting him work himself up.

"Where are we even going?" Derek asks, resting his elbow on the car door and leaning his head in his hand tiredly. He thinks it's still too early in the morning for this shit. He stares out of the window and watches as Lydia takes them further into town, to a street he doesn't remember ever seeing before. He probably has been there in the past, he reasons, but either his memory is absolutely terrible or the street has changed a lot since then. He decides to go with the second option to maintain his sanity. His confusion only increases when Lydia just tells him to wait and see as she parks them in front of a party supply store. He wonders what possible reason the girl could have for taking him there, since he doesn't think there are any holidays or birthdays coming up soon. Stiles would've told him if there were, since the teen is usually better at keeping on top of things like that than he is. "What the hell are we going here...?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Lydia dismisses, waiting for a car to pass before opening her door and exiting the vehicle. She waits impatiently on the pavement for Derek to join her. A thought strikes her, and she stares speculatively at the alpha when he joins her, the two of them walking together toward the front of the store. She'll have to kick his ass if what she just thought actually turns out to be true. She smirks to herself and thinks that her timing is really impeccable, the closed sign on the store's entrance being turned around to read 'Open' right as they walk the final few steps.

Derek is left walking behind Lydia, looking around the place, completely lost. He frowns to himself when he overhears the girl talking to one of the shop assistants, explaining that she'd received a text earlier that morning which said her order was finally ready to be collected. He wracks his brain again and tries to think of what possible reason she could have for buying party supplies, but again he comes up with nothing. It's only when the shop assistant returns with several bags of stuff and he sees what's peaking out of the top that it hits him. He doesn't actually know his own mate's birthday, and he guesses from the various _Marvel_ and _DC_ decorations in the bags that it must be soon. Guilt builds in his gut and he feels like a terrible person for never thinking to ask anybody before now. He prays dearly that he's misreading things, but when Lydia tells him to fork over the money for it all, he knows his prayers are pointless. He wonders how it was he could claim to love Stiles without knowing something as simple as when on the calendar the boy's birthday falls.

"I take it from the look on your face that you didn't know Stiles' birthday is this Saturday?" Lydia asks somewhat testily as they exit the store a few minutes later, Derek carrying all of the bags since they're actually pretty heavy. She sighs when Derek nods slowly. "You're the worst mate and alpha ever..."

After popping the boot so Derek can put everything inside, hidden from prying eyes, Lydia relents with her glaring when she sees that self-loathing expression on the alpha's face. She bites at her bottom lip, figuring that the man will probably berate himself enough without her adding to it. Taking pity on him, she reaches over and pats him on the shoulder a couple of times before turning her keys in the ignition and heading back to the house to drop him off. "I'm sure it'll all be OK, Derek," she assures, breaking the man out of his thoughts. "I'm sure Stiles wouldn't mind too much, and I can see that you already blame yourself enough for the both of us, so I won't tell him anyway. You know now, so as long as you get Stiles an absolutely kick-ass gift, I won't have to tell him about your little oversight and he'll be none the wiser."

Derek stays quiet as he thinks, wondering what he could possibly get his mate that would measure up to Lydia's standards. He hopes that the perfect idea will come to him at some point during the week, since nothing really stands out to him during the drive. When the house comes into view, he puts it out of his mind for the time being when he sees that several other vehicles have appeared outside while he and Lydia have been gone. It looks like most of the pack will be spending the day there again.

When he sees Lydia climb out of her car, Jackson gets up from where he'd been lounging on the porch swing, jumping down the front steps to greet her. He pays no attention to Derek when the alpha walks past them. "So, are you gonna tell me what you two were up to or do I have to wait and see?" he asks, following her around to the back of her car when she gestures for him to do so. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when she opens the trunk and shows him the crazy amount of bags stored within. At first, he thinks that Lydia has simply gone on another shopping spree again and he dreads having to take back all of the clothes she changes her mind about—he really wishes he had a strong enough backbone to stand up to her every once in a while—but a closer inspection calms his worries. "What the hell is all of this crap?" He pulls down the edge of one of the bags and snorts derisively when he sees what spills out.

"Hey!" Lydia exclaims, slapping Jackson's hand away and making a quick job of putting everything back where it should be. "Don't mess any of this up! This 'crap' is for Stiles' party, you idiot." Her voice is hushed, almost like she suspects that the boy in question is lurking around somewhere, in danger of overhearing. She knows she's being ridiculous, Derek's disappearance telling her that Stiles isn't anywhere close by, and she thinks with amusement that the man is seriously whipped.

"Whatever..." Jackson responds, feigning disinterest. He waits patiently while Lydia gets all of her things together before following the girl into the house, the sound of what he assumes to be Scott's bike getting closer in the distance.

Lydia sits herself right in the middle of one of the sofas in the living room, listening to the sounds of bickering coming from the direction of the kitchen. Leaning slightly to the side, she can just get a glimpse through the doorway, revealing Erica and Isaac arguing over who gets the last Oreo cookie. She laughs softly to herself when she sees Derek come out of nowhere and swipe the cookie before either of the betas can get their hands on it, stuffing it in his mouth and walking away toward to the back door as if nothing happened. Erica and Isaac stare after the alpha, both of them looking betrayed. Lydia decides not to say anything when the blonde wolf stomps through to the living room and throws herself moodily into the seat next to her, her arms crossed and a deep scowl on her face.

The front door bursts open a few seconds later, Scott barrelling into the house afterward and getting smacked in the face by the rebounding wood. He rubs at his face and winces as he waits for his freshly broken nose to heal, holding a hand over it to stop any blood from running down onto his clothes.

Allison appears quickly beside Scott and guides him through to the kitchen, sitting him down on one of the stools around the island and dabbing at the blood on his face with a handful of wet paper towels. "You should really be more careful..." she laughs, wondering how it is that a werewolf can possibly be so clumsy. She guesses that not even lycanthropy was enough to rid her boyfriend of his carelessness. When the last of the blood is cleaned from Scott's face, she balls up the paper towels and moves to put them in the dustbin on the other side of the room. As she turns around, Derek comes into the room carrying a couple of buckets full of various vegetables, which he subsequently dumps on the countertop. When the alpha steps away a couple of paces and brushes his hands off on his jeans, she moves closer and peers at everything he brought through. "What's all this?"

"You're looking at everyone's dinner for the next couple of weeks or so," Derek explains, frowning down at his hands when he sees that there's still quite a bit of dirt on his palms, making all the lines in the skin stand out more than usual. He makes use of the sink and nods to himself when all traces of dirt are washed away by the warm water and soap. "Stiles went a little overboard with the planting, so I guess the menu'll look pretty vegetarian for a while."

Almost as if he heard his name being spoken, Stiles chooses that moment to join Derek, Scott and Allison in the kitchen, carrying his own couple of buckets with him.

Scott's eyes widen when he takes in the state of his friend's neck, his mind going straight to the worst case scenario and making him think that the other boy has been attacked or something. He's about to rush up from his seat and check Stiles over before he notices the teeth marks and the particularly smug expression on Derek's face, clueing him in to the true origin of all of the bruises. He scrunches up his nose in disgust and shakes his head rapidly to try and clear out all of the mental images that have begun to form there.

His throat feeling dry, Jackson enters the kitchen and sidesteps around Derek on his way to the fridge. He looks over all of the different beverages stored in the shelves on the inside of the door before selecting some grape juice, in the mood for something sweet. When he closes the fridge again, he finds himself face-to-face with Stiles. He leaps back from the other boy immediately, not wanting to be seen willingly standing so close to him. "What the hell happened to you?" he asks when his eyes fall down to Stiles' neck, a mocking smirk on his lips. "You finally piss off the wrong person? 'Cause I've been saying for a while now that it was only a matter of time before someone decided to knock you down a peg or two." He quickly shuts himself up when he hears a reproving growl coming from behind, and he looks slowly over his shoulder and ducks his head when he's met with red eyes.

"If you must know, Derek got a little carried away last night while he was pounding me into the mattress," Stiles proclaims, getting immense pleasure out of watching Jackson's face quickly turn green. "I don't mind though; it was some of the best sex we've ever had. Now, since you decided to be a rude little puppy, you won't be getting any of the cookies I'll be baking for the pack later on today." Smiling proudly, he grabs Derek by the bicep and drags the alpha from the room, leaving both Jackson and Scott to their retching.

"Was that really necessary?" Derek whispers harshly when he finally finds his voice again. He allows himself to be pulled back up the stairs, wondering why Stiles is taking the both of them up there when the pack is down on the ground floor. "Where are we going?"

Stiles closes their bedroom door and begins stripping off his clothes, making sure to leave them in a neat pile in the corner so he can deal with them later. "I don't know about you, but I got a lot of joy from seeing the horrified expression on Jackson's face, so to answer your first question, yes, it was necessary," he explains, unzipping his chinos and holding them up once he's stepped out of them. He rubs over a couple of the dirt and grass stains and frowns, thinking that it'll be pretty difficult to get them out again whenever he washes them next. Shrugging, he drops them on top of the rest of his clothes. "And to answer your _other_ question, doing that gardening got me all sweaty and covered in dirt, so I was planning on taking a shower." He runs his eyes down the length of Derek's body before raising a suggestive eyebrow in the alpha's direction. "I know you've already taken one today, but you look pretty dirty again, too, so...you can join me if you want?"

With that, Stiles slips off into the bathroom and kicks the door most of the way closed. He quickly slips out of his underwear and throws them through the small gap, smirking when the action gets the growl he was hoping it would. The door crashes open right as he's reaching up to turn the shower on, and he laughs happily when Derek immediately crowds him into the stall, clothes still on. "Mmm, that's what I'm talking about..." he breathes after pulling away from the alpha's demanding lips.

Reaching down, Stiles gets a tight grip on the hem of Derek's Henley and rips the offending material off of the alpha's body, immediately connecting their mouths again as the soaked shirt lands in the sink with a wet slap. Clinking metal signals that his mate is hastily unbuckling his belt, the man kicking his jeans backward once they hit the shower's basin, toppling over the rim and falling to the bathroom floor. He gasps into Derek's mouth when their hips meet again and he feels the hot length of the alpha's cock rubbing insistently against his hip. The fabric of Derek's boxer-briefs feels rough on his own still-sensitive cock, reminding him again of the previous night's activities. He doesn't know whether he actually has another orgasm in him already, but that doesn't stop his cock from valiantly trying to harden once more.

Pushing Stiles backward until his back connects with the cold tile of the wall, Derek drinks up the shocked gasp the sudden change in temperature causes the teen to release into his mouth. He wedges his hand between Stiles and the wall and cups his mate's ass, his palm squeezing the smooth globes and his index finger pressing teasingly against the base of the plug still buried deep inside.

Stiles whines when Derek grabs a hold of the plug and begins drawing it out, his tender hole stretching around the widest part and clenching around nothing when it slips past.

Derek fucks Stiles with the plug slowly, never pulling it out fully until he feels the teen's hole get used to the stretch, the push and pull of the wide plastic becoming easier. He growls when he feels warmth suddenly drip down onto his fingers, his come beginning to leak out around the plug. Stepping back a little, he turns Stiles quickly with one arm and finally tosses the black plastic aside, not caring where it lands. Instead, he shoves two of his fingers knuckle-deep inside the wet heat of his mate's hole, the constant growling in his chest kicking up a couple of notches as he feels his way around, whiteness dripping down to his wrist and trailing down his arm the entire time. "You're so greedy for me, aren't you, Stiles?" he rasps into the teen's ear, biting on the lobe. "So loose and sloppy and desperate to be filled up again, just like a bitch in heat..." Allowing his claws to come forth on his free hand, he shreds his underwear so they fall uselessly to the floor, his aching cock springing forth from the fabric, finally unrestrained.

There's something so deliciously naughty about being with Derek like this while the rest of the pack is right downstairs. Stiles can't help the needy noises that spill from his mouth when the alpha's fingers graze his swollen prostate. The dirty words his mate spews just add to it all, and he pushes back on the man's fingers willingly, seeking more. "Please..." he whimpers, his eyes clenching shut.

"Please what?" Derek responds darkly, his eyes bleeding red and his fangs threatening to make an appearance. "Please fuck you? You want that? You want my cock so deep inside you, want me to pump another load in your slutty ass until you're ripe and round with my come? You want me to breed you full of my pups? Is that what you want?" He grinds his cock against Stiles' ass as he speaks, his own restraint breaking piece by piece with every word. "Tell me..."

"God, yes... Please! Need you in me..." Stiles begs, gasping, still rocking back on Derek's fingers. He lets out a disappointed little whine when the thick fingers suddenly disappear, but he's stopped from protesting properly when he feels something blunt and much larger at his entrance.

With one brutal snap of his hips, Derek sheathes himself fully inside of Stiles' ass, the teen crying out at the sudden intrusion. He pauses for a few seconds to make sure his mate is alright before pulling his hips back and starting up a fast pace. He's too worked up by his own words and ideas to make it anything other than rough, but Stiles doesn't seem to mind. He keeps his hands on the teen's hips with an iron grip, holding him in place as he fucks his sloppy ass. He can feel his own come from the previous night leaking out around his cock, sticking in his pubic hair and running down his balls and thighs. The sensation is so unbelievably hot that it drives him to go even harder, his hips jackrabbiting as he chases his own pleasure.

Stiles can do nothing but dig his nails into the wall and hold on as Derek's cock fills him up again and again. The alpha moves so quickly that his ass doesn't have time to clench back up before being stuffed full again. He's unable to close his mouth, his breath coming in fast pants between helpless mewls and whimpers. His cock has hardened fully under Derek's unrelenting assault, and he shakily takes one of his hands off of the wall and wraps his fingers around the aching length. He doesn't even have to do anything; Derek's thrusts pump his own hips forward into his hand, their skin slapping together audibly until it echoes around the shower stall. The alpha grunts in tandem with his thrusts into the sweat-damp skin at the back of his neck, the occasional sting of fang sparking the pleasure up even more. His orgasm creeps up on him, and his cock spurts one feeble string of come against the wall when it hits. He shudders through it, dropping his hand when the direct stimulation gets to be too much.

The tightening of Stiles' ass around his cock is what causes Derek's knot to blossom into being, swelling up amazingly fast until one last, forceful thrust pops it past the abused ring of muscle. He bites down on the bare skin of Stiles' shoulder as he begins to pump another hot load inside of his mate's ass, each thick jet mixing with the first load from last night.

Reaching down with his hand, Derek rubs his palm across Stiles' stomach, lost for words when he thinks he can actually detect the faintest bulge there. The sensation taps into something animalistic and primal in his head, his wolf howling with joy at the idea of impregnating their mate with their pups. Rationally, he knows there's no actual possibility of that ever happening, but it's nice to lose himself in the fantasy, if only for a minute. His balls tighten up as his orgasm just keeps going, his hips working in tiny circles to bury his knot deeper in the tight channel and Stiles' stomach swelling further with all of the come locked inside. Eventually, when his orgasm tapers off to the occasional twitching of his cock, he pulls his mouth off of his mate's shoulder and licks over the small bite marks left in the wake of his fangs, tiny pinpricks of blood welling up.

Derek feels Stiles slump back against him and gently wraps his mate up in his arms, carefully lowering them down to the bottom of the shower so that the teen is sat in his lap, back to chest. He turns them slightly so that he's leaning back against the wall, his hands fitting around the gentle curve of Stiles' stomach as they wait for his knot to go down. Now that the heat of the moment has passed, he feels a little self-conscious about letting his mouth run away with him like that.

"I can hear you thinking, Sourwolf..." Stiles mumbles, still a little out of it from his intense orgasm. He turns his head sideways until his nose is pressed against the short, rough hairs on Derek's cheek. "Stop worrying. That was hot as fuck... Anything goes between you and I, so don't worry about that little breeding kink you've got goin' on... I kinda loved it, too."

His face heating up, Derek continues to run his tongue along the small wound on Stiles' shoulder. He laps up the blood and cleans it as the hot water runs over their bodies, cleaning all other traces of their lovemaking from their skin.

"Damn..." Stiles says breathlessly, wiggling in place a little bit. "I don't think I've ever felt this _full_ before. It's kinda weird. A good weird, though." He winces and looks down at his cock sadly when his movements cause Derek's knot to press against his prostate again, the soft flesh twitching slightly from the stimulation. "I guess what I said earlier about my ass not being up for another round was wrong, though I think my dick's _definitely_ gonna be out of commission for a while..." He pauses when Derek makes a noncommittal noise into his shoulder. "You should consider doing that whole dirty-talk thing a lot more often. 'S great."

* * *

_\- Thursday, August 23rd, 2012 -_

The following Thursday, Stiles is driving home from school, silently fuming and wishing he could get away with murdering his Chemistry teacher. He and Charlie had managed to finish their project the previous day, just in the nick of time, and he'd been quite proud of the job they'd done. In fact, he'd been pretty confident that they might actually be able to secure an 'A', even with the teacher's rampant dislike of him. Those hopes had quickly been extinguished when Ms. Adler had interrupted them halfway through their presentation and told them to retake their seats without allowing them to finish. She didn't even give an explanation as to why she was cutting their presentation short and had just saddled them with an 'F' before moving onto the next pair of students in the class. He'd actually been tempted to go and complain about the woman to someone higher up, hoping to at the very least get her in some degree of trouble, but after remembering that Scott has already been down that road before with no success, he decided against it.

Stiles had resigned himself to the fact that he'll most likely be failing Chemistry that year when the idea hit him that he might be able to convince Lydia to do something about it. He didn't let Charlie in on the plan that quickly formed in his head, choosing instead to just go straight to the banshee and ask about it. At first, Lydia had seemed unwilling to get involved, but after he'd told her about everything that had happened earlier that day, she'd come around. She ended up choosing to follow her own plan, though, which she wouldn't let him in on. She'd told him to just sit back and enjoy it before dragging Erica off with her.

Out of nowhere, a strange banging comes from beneath the hood of Stiles' Jeep, bringing him out of his thoughts. He almost jumps out of his skin when, as he's pulling the vehicle over to the side of the road in order to inspect the noise, there's suddenly a huge bang, followed by smoke billowing out from the engine.

Panicking, Stiles slams his foot down on the breaks, swerving off to the side so that the Jeep doesn't end up stranded in the middle of the road. He sits in the driver's seat for a full minute, just looking at the damage through the front windshield. When another car races along the road and passes him without even slowing down, he shakes himself out of his reverie and gets out to check what has gone wrong. Waving a hand in front of his face to keep the smoke from invading his lungs, he lifts up the hood of the Jeep and stands back for a few seconds as the majority of the smoke is blown away by the wind. Now that he's actually able to see, he looks over the engine with a frown, fiddling with a couple of things before coming to the conclusion that whatever is wrong with the car is something he's unable to fix by himself. "Fucking fantastic..." he mutters, releasing a long breath.

Stiles slides his phone from his pocket, hitting the first speed dial and waiting until he hears Derek's voice on the other end of the line. He's quick to explain the problem, keeping the call short. It ends with the alpha promising to be there within the next half hour, for which Stiles is incredibly grateful. While he waits, he gets back inside the Jeep to escape the chill that has crept up on him from nowhere. He wraps his arms around his torso and goes to turn on the heating before realising that he obviously can't at that moment. He grinds his teeth together in annoyance, huddling down in his seat and pulling his legs up. He's just able to fit his hoodie over his knees.

Just as he's wondering where the sudden cold has come from, Stiles sees headlights appear behind him. He cranes his head around to look over his shoulder, squinting through the brightness and smiling in relief when he's able to make out the familiar black lines of the Camaro coming to a stop a short distance away.

Derek pulls up the parking brake and exits his car, immediately jogging over to meet Stiles next to his Jeep. The first thing he notices is that the teen appears to be shivering noticeably, and when he pays attention, he finds that the evening air does have an unusual chill to it that wasn't present even an hour before. Shrugging out of his leather jacket, he flings it over Stiles' shoulders and tucks the collar in close, hoping that the residual heat from his body and its higher-than-normal temperature will help warm his mate up while he checks over the Jeep.

While Derek works, Stiles stands off to the side and draws the alpha's jacket even closer around his shaking body. He tucks his nose into the collar and sighs contentedly when his senses are immediately filled with the comforting scent of his mate. That's one of the main reasons he likes to borrow Derek's leather jacket whenever the man will allow it, because it means he can still feel close to his mate even when they're off doing their own things. Annoyingly, it's not too often that he can get away with taking it with him to school or wherever else, though that doesn't stop him from trying. He's lost count of the number of times Derek has caught him right as he's trying to slink out of the front door unnoticed, the alpha yanking him back into the house and staring him into submission. He's reluctantly given the jacket back every time, still not really understanding why his mate doesn't seem to trust him to take care of it. Perhaps it has something to do with the pack being around and that they tend to be clumsy and even more careless than usual without Derek there to keep watch over them, or Scott, if he's singling people out.

When he gets a good look at the engine of Stiles' Jeep, Derek wonders how it was that the vehicle even ran for as long as it did. It doesn't surprise him that it gave up the ghost now, given the state of it. Granted, he doesn't know much about cars in general—the only one he's knowledgeable about is his own Camaro because it's so dear to him—but even he can see that the probability of Stiles' Jeep getting fixed to the point where it runs again is almost slim to none.

Slamming the hood of the Jeep closed again, Derek is about to wipe the grease on his hands off on the hem of his shirt when Stiles appears out of nowhere, holding out an old rag from the backseat. "Thanks," he accepts, watching as the teen throws the now-soiled rag back into the Jeep through the open window.

"So what's the verdict?" Stiles asks nervously, his eyes flicking back and forth between Derek and his Jeep. He prays for good news, since he's had the thing for years and it means a lot to him. Plus, he doesn't exactly have the means to get another car if the Jeep does kick the bucket now. He'll end up having to steal lifts from Derek and the rest of the pack until he can think up some way to make enough money to afford a new one, though 'new' is probably pushing it a bit. He knows the most likely outcome is that he'll be purchasing a secondhand vehicle, the first one he comes across that looks like it won't die as soon as he drives it out of the dealership. He knows all of that will no doubt come to pass fairly soon when he looks up and sees the sympathetic expression on Derek's face.

"It's not looking good, Stiles," Derek says gently, wincing when his mate's face crumples immediately at his words. He wishes he could deliver better news. "I can't say for sure since I'm not an expert or anything, but I'd say there's not much chance of the Jeep coming out of this thing alive." He pulls out his phone and begins dialling the number for the local mechanic's so they can come pick Stiles' vehicle up. "I'm gonna get someone out here to get it and hopefully they'll be able to fix whatever's wrong with it, OK?" When the teen nods his assent, he hits the call button and waits for someone to answer.

Soon enough, Derek is driving behind the tow truck with Stiles sitting dispiritedly in the passenger seat, the teen staring out of the window as he fills the car with the scent of sadness and worry. Stiles remains quiet the entire time they're sat waiting for the on-call mechanic to finish his inspection, sequestered away in a room that has nothing within it but several rickety-looking chairs and a small table piled high with magazines and newspapers that are years old. He watches his mate rock back and forth on his chair, keeping an eye out in case the teen ends up accidentally going too far and falling backward on his ass. He wouldn't put it past Stiles. When the room's sole door opens again, he gets to his feet and is instantly able to read the expression on the mechanic's face, telling him that his earlier findings had been correct and that the Jeep is well and truly dead.

The mechanic is a burly man, somewhere in his mid-forties with balding hair and three-day stubble. He wears a wife-beater that looks like it's seen better days, the white fabric covered in grease and fast food stains, and his gloves look so old that they could fall apart at any given moment. His overalls are tied off at his waist, his name just visible on the side of his hip, reading 'Chad'.

"There was nothin' I could do, I'm afraid," Chad says, looking thoroughly bored even though he's giving bad news. There's not a single hint of empathy on his shiny face. "The only thing you can really do now is scrap it for parts, and even then you wouldn't get that much for them since it's not really a popular model."

Quickly taking the reigns of the conversation when it looks like Stiles might burst into tears at any moment, Derek gestures to the door to get Chad to follow him back out into the workshop. "How much are we talking here?" he asks once the door is shut, thinking it's for the best that his mate isn't around to overhear them discussing dismantling his 'baby'. He's not expecting to hear a very large number; factoring out what the other man said earlier, even he can see the Jeep is looking worse for wear anyway. He wouldn't pay anything for them himself, but he still manages to be disappointed when Chad responds with the offer of just under six-hundred dollars. "We'll have to think about it; would it be possible to keep it here until we come to a decision?"

After getting a 'yes', Derek thanks the other man and returns to Stiles' side, pleased to see that the teen appears to be holding himself together. He understands the feeling of upset that his mate is currently experiencing, because even though he basically detested the Jeep—he wouldn't have dared actually say those words to Stiles—he knows he would feel similar if it were his Camaro in its place.

"We should just scrap it," Stiles begins immediately after Derek reenters the room, wanting to just put the idea out there and stop dwelling on it any longer. "As tempted as I am to tell him 'no' and just keep it for memory's sake, I know there wouldn't be a point in that; it would just be sat outside of the house day after day, doing nothing and rusting away. It's better to take what little we can get for it now and move on." He looks forlornly out of the room's little window, only just able to make out the familiar blue paint of his beloved car.

"If you're sure," Derek soothes, wrapping an arm around Stiles' shoulders and bringing him into a hug. It doesn't escape him that his shirt feels suspiciously wet when the teen pulls away again, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he goes off to hammer out all of the details with the mechanic while Stiles goes and says goodbye to his Jeep one last time. When Derek returns, he finds his mate running a hand over to smooth surface of the hood. He himself carries a stack of bills in his hand, which he promptly hands over to the teen with a tentative smile. "You ready to go?" With an arm around Stiles' waist, he guides Stiles back out into the cold, the pair of them pausing when the first thing they're greeted with is a small layer of white on the ground. Staring up at the sky, Derek watches as small flakes of snow fall from the dense clouds, getting steadily larger and more frequent. "What the hell...? It's not even September yet."

Stiles holds out his palm and stares in wonder as a flake lands on his skin and melts. "This is so weird... It never snows here," he mutters, fascinated. "I wonder how long it'll go on for." He can't help but wish for it to cover the whole town, turning that Friday into a snow day and extending the weekend into a three-day affair. It would make for an interesting birthday gift.

"No idea..." Derek responds, snapping out of his daze when a snowflake lands on his nose, startling him with its coldness. "C'mon, let's get you home."

During the drive, an idea strikes Derek that seems so perfect he doesn't know why he didn't think of it immediately. Ever since Lydia informed him of Stiles' birthday the previous Sunday, he's been struggling to come up with any sort of present he could get his mate that would be suitable. Now that Stiles is in need of a fresh set of wheels, he begins formulating a plan. He'll have to make a trip to the local dealership while Stiles is at school the following day to try and find something that the teen will like.

"Ugh, what a day..." Stiles moans loudly as soon as he clears the threshold of their house and kicks off his shoes by the front door. He doesn't wait for Derek and just flops himself down on the sofa in a depressed heap, pulling the money the alpha had handed to him earlier out from the pocket of the man's leather jacket when he finds it creates an uncomfortable lump. He places it carelessly on the coffee table and doesn't care that it slides sideways, a couple of bills floating to the floor. Throwing an arm over his face, he doesn't look up when he feels Derek lift his legs and place them down on his lap again, the man rubbing a calloused thumb in small circles around his right ankle. "Thanks for coming to pick me up..." His voice is muffled by his arm, but he knows Derek understood him when the alpha's hand squeezes his leg once.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" Derek asks carefully, resting his head on the back of the sofa and staring down at Stiles with worried eyes. He doesn't like that he can still smell the sadness and angst coming from the teen in waves.

Stiles sighs before removing his arm and meeting Derek's eyes. "Could you get me the leftover cookies I made on Sunday?" he asks, pouting. He sits up and swings his legs off of the alpha's lap and stretches them out in front of himself, his body still slumped down so that his shoulders touch the back of the sofa and his ass is in danger of slipping off of the cushion. He rubs his toes absentmindedly on the underside of the coffee table. "I feel like eating all of my pain away with food that has absolutely no nutritional value."

"I thought the betas ate all of those?" Derek remarks as he makes to stand, planning on making himself a snack as well while he's in the kitchen.

"I hid a few specially for a time like this before they could get their hands on them..." Stiles confesses quietly, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Derek before reaching over to the arm of the sofa and swiping the television remote up in his hand. "They should be in the back of the pantry, on the bottom shelf."

After some hunting around, Derek finally finds the aforementioned cookies. They're hidden in a tinfoil-wrapped Tupperware container, some spare bottles and jars of ketchup and mayonnaise positioned purposefully in front of them. He thinks as he pulls it out that he can't fault Stiles' ingenuity, the teen obviously going the extra mile to make sure no other wolves caught the scent and went looking where they shouldn't. It doesn't escape his notice when he opens the lid to check whether he's actually grabbed the right thing that his mate has managed to save several white chocolate chip cookies, both of their favourites. Guessing that there's enough in the container to satiated both of their appetites for the time being, he shrugs to himself and forgoes fixing himself the snack he intended to. He carries the cookies back through to the living room with two carefully balanced glasses of milk on top.

"You're a lifesaver!" Stiles chirps when he sees Derek coming back into the room, waiting until his mate has reclaimed his usual seat at the end of the sofa before twisting himself sideways and resting his head in the alpha's lap.

Derek has just started nibbling on his first cookie when he gets a glimpse of the television, at the frame Stiles has deliberately paused the screen on. He groans loudly and glares down at the teen when he starts laughing at his pain. He'd been hoping that his mate had forgotten about the threat he made some months ago, but apparently that's not the case as he finds himself staring up at the seven-lettered word on the screen.

"You didn't think I'd forgotten that I said I was going to make you watch all of this, did you?" Stiles cackles, almost choking when a chocolate chip gets temporarily lodged in his throat. He clears it with a sip of milk, his laughter picking right back up afterward. Without waiting for Derek to reply, he hits play on the remote and wiggles slightly in place to get himself more comfortable, the alpha's right thigh moving to fit snugly at the back of his neck. "I still stand by my earlier hypothesis that you'll really like _Friends_ if you let yourself get invested in the characters..." When Derek just harrumphs in response, he glances up at the man and pats him consolingly on the knee, preparing himself to marathon at least three episodes to start off with. He's resolute in his earlier decision that he'll be getting Derek to watch every single season; it's just up to the alpha how quickly they get through them. If it takes months, then so be it.


	8. Celebration

_\- Friday, August 24th, 2012 -_

The next day, Stiles wakes up to a flurry of texts coming in on his phone. Groaning, he rolls over and reaches blindly over to his nightstand, almost knocking the empty glass stood there to the floor before he actually finds the device. Rubbing at his eyes, he sits up and looks at the time, cursing whoever has disturbed his sleep when he finds he still has a few minutes left before he has to get up for school. Planning on replying to them with a scathing message, he opens the texts and finds they're from Scott, pausing in surprise when he reads the other boy's excited words. Looking up, he notices for the first time the unusual glow coming from the other side of the curtains. Rushing to get out of bed, he drops his phone down on the mattress and hurries over to the window, flinging the curtains back and staring with wonder at the thick blanket of white that covers the entire surrounding area. He's not surprised that the school is keeping its doors closed that day, given the sheer amount of it. _Guess I got my wish_ , he muses, looking up at the sky and finding that flakes of snow are still falling from the clouds.

When a chill runs through his body, Stiles finally turns away from the spectacular view and slips into his warmest clothes, choosing to put one of Derek's sweaters over it all. That done, he grabs his phone again and exits the bedroom, leaving Derek to sleep for a little while longer as he makes his way downstairs. His first stop is to the thermostat on the wall just inside the living room. He adjusts it up a few degrees to compensate for the snow outside before switching on the coffee pot in the kitchen, knowing the smell of it will probably rouse his mate.

His phone chirping incessantly again, Stiles looks down at the screen and isn't surprised at all when he sees messages from most of the pack, telling him that they'll be converging on the house in a matter of minutes. He didn't expect anything less.

After downing his first mug of coffee of the day and noticing that Derek still hasn't appeared, Stiles grabs a second one and carries it back upstairs. He gets a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest when he sees how the alpha is sprawled out across the whole mattress, his limbs akimbo and his hair sticking up in every direction. Carefully taking a seat next to Derek's hip, he holds the mug out near his mate's face and wafts the steam toward his nose. He knows it's working when he sees the man's nostrils flare before his eyes blink open tiredly. Leaning back again when Derek pushes himself up to sitting, he willingly hands the coffee over to the alpha when he holds out his hand, responding to his thanks with a bright, "You're welcome."

"What's got you up so early?" Derek asks when he lowers the mug from his lips and glances over at the clock on the nightstand. He drags himself backward a little bit until he rests more comfortably against the pillows, the mug held carefully in his lap so that it doesn't accidentally spill and stain the sheets.

"Dude, look out the window," Stiles replies happily, watching as Derek slips out of bed to do just that. He nods along knowingly when the man swears in shock, thinking that he can just about make out the white tops of the trees from his position still on the bed. Getting up as well, he walks up behind Derek and tucks his face into the back of his neck, his arms wrapping around and crossing over the alpha's stomach. He sighs when he feels Derek's free hand come up to cover his, the man leaning back slightly into his embrace. "Scott texted me earlier and woke me up. Apparently, the school is closed today because of all this."

Tearing his gaze away from the sky, Derek hums his understanding and looks down at Stiles' arms, frowning in confusion when he recognises what the teen is wearing. "Is that my sweater?" he enquires offhandedly, plucking at the thick material with his fingers. He turns around and holds Stiles out at arms length, getting a good look at him. As always, seeing the teen wearing his clothes does funny things to his heart.

"I was cold and your sweaters are more snuggly than mine," Stiles mumbles, looking down and off to the side, his face heating up. He blinks when he feels Derek place a small kiss to his forehead.

Derek steps around Stiles and downs the rest of his coffee in one gulp, leaving the mug on top of the dresser as he searches for something weather-appropriate to wear himself. He soon finds that his mate must have chosen the most warm-looking sweater, since all he finds are his newer, less well-worn garments. Shrugging and guessing that it doesn't really matter given the fact that he doesn't feel the cold as much as Stiles, he digs right down to the bottom of the drawer to his winter clothes, thinking how strange it is that he needs them again already. Putting on a simple grey tank top first, he selects a deep purple Henley to go over it before completing the look with a simple pair of grey sweatpants. Turning around, he holds his arms out at his sides and raises a questioning eyebrow at Stiles when he sees the teen watching him closely. "Well?" he asks, his voice amused as he waits for his mate to stop gawking. The fact that Stiles can't seem to close his mouth is quite gratifying.

The question snapping him out of his daze, Stiles rolls his eyes and shrugs off any embarrassment that tries to creep up on him. "Very nice," he purrs, tilting his head to the side. He particularly likes that Derek's bare feet peak out from the ends of his sweats; the sight is strangely erotic. "I don't know why you bother asking; you know you could be wearing a trash bag and still look like a _GQ_ model. It's so unfair..."

Accepting Stiles' compliment with an overdramatic bow, Derek picks up his empty mug and drags the teen downstairs. As they walk, he thinks back to his earlier plan of stopping by the nearest car dealership later that day, praying that the place will still be doing business. He decides that he'll look up their number later when his mate is off somewhere else and call to see if they're still open. If not, he'll have to be late giving Stiles his present, and he really doesn't want that to happen. He wants to get the teen alone when he gives it to him, to see his face—hopefully—light up with joy. It'll also mean that he and the rest of the pack won't have to drive Stiles around for the foreseeable future, not that he would mind doing it at all.

Halfway through their breakfast, Derek looks up from his food when the doorbell rings suddenly. He frowns, having not heard any approaching engines or footsteps beforehand. Rising from his stool around the kitchen island, he leaves Stiles where he is and makes his way to the front door, looking through the peephole before raising his hand to open it. His bafflement increases when he can't see anything on the other side. Gabbing the handle, he turns it and throws the door open wide, his body tensed like he's expecting to be attacked at any second. When nothing happens, he takes a couple of steps outside and looks around carefully, thinking that the snow looks even more impressive from down on the ground. Still, he doesn't see anyone in the area, and he shrugs to himself before making to go back inside. Before he can shut the door behind himself, he hears someone yell, "Snowball fight!" before a compacted ball of white powder hits him square in the face.

Stiles dashes through the hall when he hears Derek let out an unmanly squeal, wondering what on earth could have possibly happened to get the man to unleash a sound so uncharacteristic of himself. When he reaches the front door, he glimpses Derek's back as the alpha storms outside and off into the snow, heedless of his bare feet.

As soon as Derek descends the last of the front steps and gets down onto the snow-covered grass, every beta suddenly appears out of nowhere and he finds himself bombarded with an impossible amount of snowballs. He feels a brief sense of pride about the fact that what he's teaching his pack is obviously working, but it doesn't last long as he brushes the snow from his hair and shoulders and glares at them all. He snarls at Erica when the blonde raises her hand again, another snowball held within it. "Don't you dare..." he growls deeply, trying to stop the smile that wants to slip onto his lips from doing so.

Erica grins devilishly and throws the snowball as hard and fast as she can. It's still not quick enough to stop Derek from being able to dodge it, since he knew that this particular attack was coming ahead of time.

Having finished putting on his shoes, Stiles has just stepped down onto the ground when he sees Derek leap off to the side. He doesn't have time to guess why, because the next thing he knows, something smacks him right on the nose and sends him stumbling backward. His arms pinwheel ludicrously for a second before he begins to fall. He's saved when Isaac appears at his side, the beta hastily grabbing his hand and pulling him back up again. "Thanks..." Stiles breathes loudly, wiping the melting snow from his face. He looks up and sees Erica watching him guiltily, but that doesn't stop him from narrowing his eyes at the girl. "You're gonna get it now." He turns back to Isaac, finding Danny and Derek stood a short distance behind the tall beta. "You three are on my team. Let's get 'em!"

With that, it's chaos and all-out war as the remaining pack members split off to form second and third teams, each one ending up with a camp of sorts. The game turns into something akin to dodgeball, where if one person gets hit by a snowball, they're out.

Of course, the humans don't really last that long. Lydia is the first one to go, being nailed in the back by Cora. Allison quickly retaliates and takes the youngest Hale out as well, but while she's distracted celebrating her victory, another snowball hits her on the shoulder, thrown by Boyd. While Erica and Boyd high-five each other, she storms off up the front steps and joins Lydia and Cora, leaning against the railing of the wrap-around porch to watch the rest of the game. Stiles—the last human player—ends up doing surprisingly well, though that's really only because Derek and Isaac constantly drag him out of harm's way when he can't move quick enough himself. In the end, it comes down to Derek, Stiles and Isaac on one team, and Erica, Boyd and Jackson on the other. Scott and Kira were both defeated in a two-part attack pulled off by Derek and Danny, though the Hawaiian ended up getting too cocky. He was caught up in some good-natured gloating and didn't see Jackson sneak up behind him.

Everyone else watches on bated breath from the porch as the six remaining players stare each other down, just waiting to see who will be the first to make a move.

All at once, like there was some signal no one else could see, Derek, Stiles and Isaac burst into movement. Derek takes point with Isaac just behind him, since they're both wolves and can take the brunt of the opposing team's attack. Stiles remains at the back and tries to pick off the other three one by one. It takes some careful aiming, but eventually, he's able to just graze Erica's hip with a snowball, effectively bringing an end to her reign of terror.

The blonde stays down on the snow instead of joining the other defeated pack members on the porch, standing just off to the side of the combat. She yells encouragements at Boyd and Jackson and hurls insults at Derek, Stiles and Isaac. This quickly becomes a sort of tactic, seeing how much she can rile up the other team until they make a mistake. It's not too long before Isaac gets distracted by her obscenities, allowing Jackson's impeccable aim to take him out. The curly-haired beta slinks off to join his boyfriend, his body beginning to shiver a little with all the melted snow in his clothes now that he's not caught up in the heat of battle. Erica doubts that she can have the same effect on Derek or Stiles, so she settles for just bolstering her teammates up instead.

While Boyd is focusing on avoiding the series of snowballs flung at him by Stiles, Derek is finally able to get the drop on him, grinning wide and proud when he hits his target. The quiet beta takes a pouting Erica with him and joins the others to watch the match's conclusion.

Jackson, at a severe disadvantage now that it's two against one, flicks his eyes between Derek and Stiles apprehensively. He hopes he can at least take one of them out before being bested himself. He growls lowly when he catches sight of Stiles smirking at him, obviously pleased with how things have played out. He's tempted to flip the other boy the bird, but he refrains, wanting to stay alert.

Heart racing, Stiles walks a little bit to his left, putting Derek between Jackson and himself so that the beta can't see what he's doing. Bending down, he scoops up a considerable amount of snow, shaping it into a ball with his hands. He feels a deep sense of exhilaration from being one of the last people left in the game, having never been in this position before. Ordinarily, he'd be one of the first few eliminated, and he knows he has both Derek and Isaac to thank for the most part for the sudden turning of the tables. Feeling playful, he channels his fire into the palm holding the snowball until it begins to melt a little, hoping that he'll be able to land the shot and give Jackson a nice, wet surprise. Looking back up, he sees Derek's head turning incrementally, the alpha listening closely to his movements. Parting his lips just so, he whispers a quiet, "Duck," before taking aim and throwing as hard as he can in the direction he remembers Jackson was standing.

His attention now focused on Derek, Jackson is taken aback when the alpha suddenly crouches low to the ground. He wonders what possible reason the man could have for doing that when he spies something white flying toward him. Diving to his left to get out of the way, he tucks himself into a roll and springs back to his feet with his hands full of snow, ready to retaliate.

"Damn!" Stiles yells, disappointed that his plan failed. That emotion quickly turns into confusion when Derek comes barrelling his way, the alpha's arms wrapping around his body as he's tackled to the ground. He thinks that there's some friendly fire going on as they roll a couple of times. They come to a stop with him on his back and Derek lying atop him, and when the alpha gets off of him and turns around, he sees all of the snow stuck to the back of his Henley. Apparently, his mate was just saving him from Jackson's assault, at the cost of himself. Trust the man to be so selfless even when it's in a snowball fight. He shakes his head as he stumbles to his feet, his shoulder aching a bit because of how awkwardly he'd landed on it. When his mind catches up to the situation, he realises that it's just him and Jackson left, and the odds are definitely in the beta's favour with his werewolf reflexes. _That asshole_ , he grumbles internally, watching out of the corner of his eye as Derek moves off to the side to watch the proceedings.

"Ready to forfeit?" Jackson taunts, both of his hands raised to show off the snowballs he's holding. "There's no way you can beat me by yourself, Stilinski, so I would seriously consider it."

"In your dreams," Stiles fires back, the stuttering of his heart belying his show of confidence. While the two of them are caught in another standoff, the rest of the pack begins showing their support, and he's surprised to find that everyone seems to be on his side, even Lydia and Danny. Not wanting to let any of them down, he tries to come up with a tactic that could circumvent Jackson's superior agility.

Making the first move, Jackson flings both of the snowballs in his hands at Stiles, only just missing when the other boy drops to the ground to avoid them. Growling again, he crouches down himself to gather some more snow and makes to stand straight again, ready for another attempt. He doesn't quite get that far, though, because as he looks up to take aim, he's struck right in the centre of his forehead, the snow bursting apart from the impact and showering down around him. He stands there for a few seconds, too shocked to move even as a series of uproarious cheers reach his ears from the rest of the pack as they all race down the steps to congratulate Stiles on his victory. He slowly uncurls his hands and allows the now-useless snowballs to fall back to the earth before trudging gloomily into the house, upset and annoyed with himself because he let the human beat him.

Stiles finds his lungs protesting as he's pulled into the centre of a group hug. "OK, guys, I really appreciate this, but I'd appreciate being able to breathe even more!" he gasps out, almost falling over when everybody steps back all at once. He breathes deeply. "That's better."

Now that the snowball fight is over, Stiles realises just how cold it is and begins shivering. "How about we move this inside, huh?" he asks, leading the way with Derek right behind him. He heads straight upstairs, looking to change out of the clothes he's currently wearing and slip into something warm. Once that's done, he lays the wet clothes on the radiator to dry, turning around and finding that Derek has done the same. "Come on; I need another cup of coffee and some cuddles to warm me up again completely." He chuckles when the alpha rolls his eyes and sighs as if his words pain him.

While everyone else is raiding the kitchen for snacks, Scott, Derek and Stiles are sat in the living room, the human teen flicking through the channels on the television. He's on the hunt for something that looks at least mildly interesting.

Scott glances out of the window and notices for the first time that something appears to be missing outside. He doesn't know how he didn't realise it before, since it seems so obvious now. "Hey, Stiles? Where's your Jeep?" he asks, frowning. It seems incredibly odd that it's not parked out there, right next to Derek's Camaro like it usually is. "Are you having work done on it or something?"

"It died yesterday," Stiles replies as casually as he can, not really enjoying the reminder. "I sold it to the mechanic's for parts." He waves off Scott's condolences, shaking his head when everyone else chooses that moment to come through from the kitchen, each of them repeating his best friend's words of sympathy. "Guys, seriously, it's fine. It was pretty old anyway, so it's not like I wasn't expecting it to happen at some point. Now, can we just sit here and relax with some mindless TV, or is that asking too much?" He raises a commanding eyebrow at all of the betas and is pleased when they all acquiesce, shutting up immediately. Leaning back into Derek's warmth, he rests the remote on his knee and begins sipping the coffee he made a few minutes ago.

* * *

An hour later, after everyone has settled in the living room and wound down—and after he's able to pry himself from his mate's clingy arms—Derek sneaks off upstairs into his and Stiles' bedroom and pulls out his phone, looking up the number for the closest car dealership. He asks the man on the other end of the line whether they're still open for business and, after getting a 'yes' in return, he hangs up and turns around, planning on making some lame excuse to get himself out of the house for a while so he can go and browse the dealership's selection. When he comes face-to-face with Lydia once again, he recoils in shock before huffing. "You've got to stop doing that; it's incredibly annoying," he grouses, attempted to step around the banshee. He should've known that it wouldn't be that easy.

"I heard all of that, you know," Lydia comments quietly, holding her arm out to stop Derek from being able to get around her before she's done with him. "So, you're planning on getting Stiles a new car for his birthday, hmm? I've got to say, I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd come up with something that good."

"Yeah, well...I do have good ideas every now and then, you know," Derek points out, cautiously moving forward when Lydia finally drops her arm. He hears the girl following him as he makes his way back downstairs. When he returns to the living room, he shakes his head at Stiles when his mate pats the cushion next to him invitingly, smiling kindly when the teen pouts up at him. "Sorry, but I need to head out for a bit. I'll be back in an hour or two, OK?" Not giving anyone a chance to respond and ask him where he's going, he power-walks to the front door and hurries through it, suppressing an annoyed growl when he senses that Lydia is still following him. When they get outside, he narrows his eyes at her. "What?"

Lydia levels Derek with a reproving glare, ushering him down the front steps and toward the Camaro. "You didn't honestly think I was going to leave the selection of Stiles' new car all up to you, did you?" she asks condescendingly, opening the passenger door and sliding into the seat without waiting for Derek to actually say she can come with him.

After pausing for a minute to calm himself down, Derek climbs in behind the wheel and sets off for the dealership, ignoring all of the little tips and pointers that Lydia keeps giving him for the entirety of the drive. He glances over to his right and sees that the girl has her phone out, and he just gets a glimpse of a car on the small screen before turning his eyes back to the road. He didn't think it was like her to be that knowledgeable about cars, and apparently he was right. It doesn't take them too long to arrive, and they're immediately greeted by one of the employees when they park and get out. He's a little startled by the other man's enthusiasm when he introduces himself as Dave and holds out his hand, but he supposes it's par for the course in that line of work, since they get paid on commission and he would obviously be looking to make a sale.

Luckily for him, Derek plans on buying. "I think we're just going to browse, if that's OK," he dismisses after a couple of minutes of Dave talking his ear off. He's incredibly grateful when the other man promptly leaves him and Lydia alone.

"So, did you come into this with any ideas or are you just gonna wing it?" Lydia asks as they walk around all of the cars. She turns her nose up at most of the vehicles in the 'Used' section, but she allows Derek to continue looking through all of them because she knows that Stiles wouldn't mind and the car is for him, after all, not her.

"I'm winging it," Derek replies succinctly, getting more and more confused the further they walk. Although they've been mated for a while now and have known each other for over a year and a half, he's not too knowledgeable when it comes to Stiles' taste in automobiles. He guesses his best bet is to go for something he finds ugly himself, since the teen seemed to love his Jeep and he couldn't stand the thing. It's just as he's thinking this that he comes across a vehicle that looks almost identical to the one his mate just lost. He promptly pretends he didn't see it, thinking that he won't be going _that_ far. Plus, he's not too sure how Stiles would react if he got him a direct replacement. The next thing to consider is the colour. He doesn't even know what his mate's favourite colour is, and he tries to suppress the feeling of shame building in his gut and decides to just go with blue again. It's right at this point that he catches sight of a sign hanging behind the window of the dealership's main building, where all of the newest cars are kept. It has the Chevrolet logo on it, and he supposes it can't hurt to look at what's there considering Stiles has also expressed love for his black Camaro.

Stepping inside and out of the cold, Derek holds the door open for Lydia before heading straight over to the area he spotted from outside, immediately knowing that he made the right choice. Stood right in front of him is a car he knows is perfect. Not even the astronomical price on the sign hung behind the windshield is enough to change his mind.

Derek looks around the room and spies Dave on the other side, signalling to him that he's ready when their eyes meet. The other man promptly jogs over and begins running off a list of all of the car's pros, eager to cement the sale. Derek holds up a hand to halt him. "I don't need to hear your sales pitch. I've already decided; I'm buying this one," he interjects, refraining from rolling his eyes when he sees the shocked expression on Dave's face quickly turn into one of glee.

"Oh, excellent! If you'll just step this way, we can hammer out all of the details and you can drive your new car right out of here!" Dave promises, gesturing to one of the offices in the back of the building with a sweeping motion of his arm.

Before Derek knows it, his bank account is considerably emptier and a new set of keys is being handed over following a grateful handshake. He tosses Lydia the keys to his own car, instructing her to follow him so they can still drive back to the house after he puts Stiles' new car in a safe place until the next day. As he gets behind the wheel, he can't resist running his hands reverently across the dashboard and steering wheel, hoping and praying that his mate will love it, too. He wonders where a good place to stash it would be as they get out onto the main road, and an idea hits him right as he's about to pass Stiles' old street. He makes a quick turn, checking the rear-view mirror to make sure Lydia has kept up with him, and promptly pulls into the Stilinskis' old driveway. He's glad now that Stiles hasn't had the heart to put the place on the market yet. After locking the new Camaro, he turns and finds his own waiting for him a few feet down the street, with Lydia now sat in the passenger seat.

"That's quite a lot of money you spent," Lydia points out as soon as Derek pulls away and begins the drive back home. "Like, an excessive amount. I'm surprised you chose to pay it all at once instead of going for the whole monthly-instalments thing."

"Well, I can afford it and to me, Stiles is worth it, so why wouldn't I?" Derek responds, huffing moodily when Lydia coos at him and calls him a 'great big softie'. When they finally get back to the house, he pauses before going inside, sniffing himself and frowning when he finds he can just about detect a trace of the new car in his clothes. He guesses he'll have to preempt everybody's questions as soon as he goes in so that no one spoils the surprise for Stiles. Just like he thought, every beta in the living room turns their head in his direction as soon as he sits back down next to his mate, their noses raised in curiosity. "Not a word." He flashes his eyes red to get them to follow his order, slumping down in relief when they all shrug to themselves and go back to watching television.

After Stiles has curled himself around Derek so that he's practically sitting in the man's lap, he peers up at his mate's face, confused. "So, are you actually going to tell me where you rushed off to so suddenly or is it some big secret?" he enquires, nuzzling into Derek's cheek in hopes of softening him up.

"Nope. It's a surprise," Derek smirks, quickly holding a hand over Stiles' mouth when it looks like the teen is about to protest. He keeps it there even when he feels a tongue lick wetly across his palm, only withdrawing it again when he finally gets a reluctant nod. "Seriously, just be patient. You'll find out tomorrow. That's not too long to wait, right?"

"I suppose not," Stiles accepts slowly, snuggling back into Derek's side as endless ideas begin running through his head. He was already looking forward to the next day, but now that he's seen how pleased with himself Derek appears to be, he's even more impatient than ever. He muses that he probably won't be getting any sleep later that night, his excitement is so great.

* * *

_\- Saturday, August 25th, 2012 -_

Stiles ends up finally falling asleep sometime around two in the morning, the feeling of Derek's breath on the back of his neck getting the best of him. When he wakes up, he finds himself alone in bed, which is unusual. Derek is very rarely awake before him, and even if he is, the alpha will usually stay in bed until he's awake as well. Turning over, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and turns it on to find a series of texts from every member of the pack, even Jackson, each one wishing him a happy birthday. Lydia's informs him that they'll all be by the house a bit later to celebrate. Just as he's contemplating whether to get out of bed or not, the bedroom door opens and Derek steps through, dressed in nothing but a tight pair of boxer-briefs. That sight would make for a very good morning on its own, but the tray of food in the alpha's hands just makes everything that much better. "What's all this?" he asks as the tray is placed across his lap.

Everything is laid out neatly, with waffles, bacon, eggs, toast and pancakes taking up most of the room. Two glasses of orange juice sit on the sides, completing the meal. Stiles waits for Derek to join him on the bed before reaching out a hand for a piece of strawberry jam-covered toast.

"Well, it's your birthday today, and it's been unanimously decided by the pack that you won't be lifting a single finger for the entirety of it," Derek announces proudly, puffing out his chest and picking up a fork. He spears a piece of bacon on the end of it and shoves it in his mouth whole. He moans quietly to himself as the flavour bursts across his tongue, thinking that it was definitely a good idea to get Isaac over earlier to help him with all of the food. Since the beta helps Stiles with the cooking a lot of the time, he was able to offer some good tips and tricks to make everything as delicious as his mate usually does.

"That's so sweet, I think I'm gonna cry," Stiles chuckles, brushing off how touched he really feels with humour. He wonders about what the pack could have planned for the day, feeling the intense thrill of anticipation run through him because this is the first birthday he's had since they all came together where nothing is threatening to kill them all. He quickly shuts down that train of through before it can lead anywhere, not wanting to jinx them all. When he sees Derek finish chewing his bacon and swallow it, he leans over and presses a passionate kiss to the alpha's lips, wanting to show his gratitude. They're both left breathless when he pulls away again. "Thanks for this, Sourwolf; I really appreciate it."

Derek has to look away from Stiles' eyes after a few seconds, the tips of his ears turning pink because of the sheer amount of affection he saw burning in the cinnamon-coloured depths. "You're welcome," he mumbles bashfully, picking up another strip of bacon and biting on it slowly so he doesn't have to embarrass himself by talking anymore.

A little while later, after Stiles and Derek have finally gotten out of bed and slipped into clothes, Stiles is sat at the kitchen island, watching as his mate prepares some coffee for him. "You weren't kidding when you said I wouldn't be lifting a finger today, were you?" he comments as Derek hands him a mug filled with the delicious brown liquid. As much as he was looking forward to this day, now that it's here, he can't help feeling a little weird about it. He realises that it's not only the first birthday he's spending with the pack all together, but it's also the first birthday he's had where his dad isn't around. The fact that the day isn't starting out with presents as soon as he gets up is also another reminder. The thoughts make him a little sad, but he does his best not to show it. Even though he knows Derek probably wouldn't mind and would understand, he doesn't want to ruin the alpha's happy mood. Instead, he tries to put it out of his mind and draws on his mate's emotions to make himself feel better as well. He's happy that it works.

"Is there a plan for today or is it a relax-at-home sort of deal?" Stiles asks eventually, after they've moved over into the living room. Derek is lying on his back beneath him and he's sprawled out atop him, his head resting on the alpha's strong chest.

The television is currently on with the volume low, so quiet that Stiles can't actually hear what's being said on screen. Derek had switched it on before getting comfortable, flicking the channel over to the local news. The current story seems to be about the snow that's only just beginning to melt outside, the news anchor calling it an 'anomaly' and the weatherman unable to explain it.

Derek looks down at Stiles and snorts at the expectant expression on the teen's face. "Well, I'm taking you out for lunch later, and then as far as I know, we're all just going to be hanging around here for the rest of the day," Derek explains, hoping that he made his lie sound convincing. He mentally pats himself on the back when Stiles nods his approval and lays his head back down again, nuzzling into his chest and sighing in contentment. He quickly loses track of time after that, and before he knows it, it's approaching midday. He panics a little bit because the pack are supposed to arrive shortly to begin setting up Stiles' surprise party, but he doesn't let the emotion show on his face. "You hungry yet? Because I could definitely go for some lunch now."

Stiles is a little confused at the sudden question, pushing himself up and glancing down at Derek's stomach almost as if he expects it to make a noise to prove the alpha's point. He shrugs to himself when it doesn't and nods simply.

Luckily for Derek, he manages to get the both of them out of the house before anyone else arrives, and as he's driving them through town looking for somewhere to eat, he notices Lydia's car race past in the other direction. Glancing sideways, he's pleased to see that Stiles appears none the wiser. "So, where do you feel like eating? It's your day, after all, so it only seems right that you'd choose," he pipes up after about a minute has passed, praying that the rest of the pack will be alright setting everything up. Hopefully, Lydia will have the good sense not to let Scott or anyone else that clumsy help, because he wouldn't put it past the clueless beta to accidentally burn the house down lighting the candles on the cake or something. Returning home to find it up in flames isn't an experience he ever wants to repeat.

"Mmm...let me think," Stiles mumbles, holding his hand to his chin as he runs through all of the options in his head. He doesn't really feel like going somewhere crowded and neither of them are dressed for anything particularly upscale, which shortens the list quite a bit, making it easier. Eventually, he comes up with an idea he thinks would be perfect. "Can we just go through a drive-thru and park up somewhere deserted, just the two of us?"

"If you're sure that's what you want?" Derek agrees readily, letting Stiles direct him to whichever fast food chain he wants. After a short wait in the queue, the teen has a box filled with greasy bags in his lap and Derek is driving them to the outskirts of town, to a cosy little nook near the side of the road that Laura told him about years ago, where no passing traffic will be able to see them.

When Derek shuts off the engine, Stiles digs into the bags and divides the food between them, his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering in anticipation when he spies the two portions of curly fries Derek bought for him. His mate knows him so well. "I swear, curly fries are the best food on the whole planet! I could probably eat nothing else for the rest of my life and never get bored of them. If they were healthier, I'd be sorely tempted to do just that... This is perfect. Thank you," he breathes just before stuffing a handful of the fries in his mouth. He moans around them, chewing slowly to savour the exquisite taste before following them up with another equally big mouthful.

"You're welcome," Derek accepts, finding that he really agrees with Stiles' words. He definitely prefers this to eating in a crowded establishment; they can talk about whatever they want or sit in contented silence, and he doesn't have to focus of blocking out everybody else's conversations around them.

They eat the rest of their food in silence, and Stiles is a little surprised when he sees that he's actually consumed more than his mate for once. Usually, Derek eats at least twice what he does, but he just shrugs to himself and pats his slightly distended stomach proudly, wondering how he'll possibly be able to fit some cake in on top of all of that if the pack ends up getting him one. He'll probably have to stick to just one small slice this time. Crumpling up all of the paper bags and tossing them back in the box they came with, he twists himself around the places it carefully on the back seat so he doesn't accidentally spill any of the rubbish down in the footwell. He's sure Derek wouldn't appreciate that. "What now?" he asks when he's gotten himself situated once more in the passenger seat, peering over at his mate questioningly when he sees that the alpha is looking at something on his phone.

Derek looks up from the small screen and scrambles to come up something else they can do while Stiles' surprise party is still being set up. He's just begun panicking when his phone vibrates in his hand and a message from Lydia pops up—' _Good to go. Get back here now._ '

"Well, actually...I kind of need to use the toilet, so do you mind if we head back home?" Derek asks carefully, coming up with the flimsy excuse quickly so he doesn't give anything away and ruin the surprise. He locks his phone again and slides it back into his jeans pocket, getting anxious now that the main event is almost here. He wonders what the best way would be to give Stiles his present and hopes he'll be able to think of something appropriate before the time comes.

"Can't you just go behind a bush or something? You wouldn't be the first person to take a piss in the woods and I'm sure you won't be the last," Stiles jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Derek. There have certainly been times he's been out there and nature has called before he could get to a toilet.

"Uh, I need the other one," Derek mumbles, starting the engine without looking over at Stiles and backing the car out of its hiding place and back onto the road. He's relieved when his mate just makes a noise of understanding and drops the subject, allowing him to drive them home in silence. His palms start sweating when they get close, and he notes with approval that no other cars are in the area when they come to a stop outside of their house. That'll certainly make the party all the more surprising. The living room curtains have also been pulled closed so there's no danger of Stiles seeing anything before he walks in the front door. Getting out of the Camaro, he leads the way up the front steps, the box of fast food wrappers clutched in his hands with Stiles trailing along behind him. He can hear hushed voices coming from the other side of the door as he turns the key in the lock, and he can just make out Erica telling everyone to 'shut the fuck up and hide' as he turns the handle.

Stiles is unaware of anything. He's a little surprised that no one else has shown up in the time he and Derek were gone, but he contents himself with he knowledge that they're still planning on showing up later. He leans against the wall by the door to wait for Derek to go and use the bathroom, tapping his foot absentmindedly on the floor to the last song that was on the radio, which is now stuck in his head. _Damn you and your infectiously catchy songs, Taylor Swift_ , he thinks.

"Why don't you go and wait in the living room? This might take a while..." Derek suggests when he sees that Stiles hasn't moved any further into the house. He himself stands just next to the arch that leads into the living room, and he can see all of the colourful decorations out of the corner of his eye.

Finally looking up, Stiles nods his acceptance and uncrosses his arms, kicking his shoes off before walking through to the living room. His eyes go wide and he freezes in his steps as soon as he catches sight of all the changes the room has undergone since he last saw it. His mind hasn't quite caught up with everything and put together why it's all there when all of a sudden, eleven bodies burst forth from behind the sofas and from around the kitchen doorframe. He's almost blown off his feet with shock when they all yell, "Surprise!" at the top of their lungs, flailing backward and being caught by Derek, the alpha's hands wedging beneath his arms and keeping him from falling on his ass. "What the hell...?" he gasps, clutching at his chest after Derek helps him stand up straight again.

"It's your birthday party, dumbass," Erica greets, rolling her eyes as she watches Isaac rush forward and bring Stiles fully into the room. She flops down on the sofa and observes the proceedings, smirking to herself when the human teen practically squeals in delight after finally spotting the theme that runs through all of the decorations.

"Dude, this is fucking _awesome_!" Stiles exclaims, his mouth gaping as he takes everything in. He didn't even know they made party decorations based on his favourite comic book characters, though he guesses they're supposed to be for children. Still, that theory doesn't stop him from enjoying them immensely, and he promptly pulls Lydia into a bone-crushing hug when the redhead informs him that they were her idea. When the banshee bats his arms away while fighting a smile, he turns on Derek and narrows his eyes suspiciously. "I'm assuming this was the reason you decided to take me out to lunch out of the blue?" The alpha is also wrapped up in a tight embrace when he nods. "Best mate ever!" He plants a sloppy kiss on Derek's bearded cheek before releasing him and allowing himself to be dragged down onto the sofa next to Isaac. His eyes widen when he finally notices that there's one extra person than he was expecting in the room.

Charlie smiles shyly when she sees that Stiles' gaze has fallen on her. "Hey," she greets quietly, feeling a little out of place in such unfamiliar surroundings. She's grateful when Stiles pats the seat next to him, taking it willingly.

Using a quick flash of his eyes after making sure that Charlie isn't looking in his direction, Derek orders Isaac out of his seat, immediately taking the beta's place on Stiles' other side and making sure to stay close. Even though he got most of his emotions and reservations out of his system the previous weekend, he still feels a little bit territorial whenever his mate is around the strange girl. He's pleased that no one seems to notice it, though, or that they don't call him out on it if they do.

Stiles is baffled for a moment when Isaac gives him a stack of colourful paper cones out of nowhere. He stares at the beta for a second before realising what they are, and he grins as he pulls off the topmost one and positions it on the top of his head, the string snapping into place just beneath his chin. He loves party hats and how ridiculous they look, and it doesn't bother him that no one else other than Scott appears to want to put theirs on. Still, that doesn't stop him from turning to Derek with a mischievous glint in his eye. Before his mate can get away, he snaps the hat on the alpha's head and presses another kiss to his cheek to get him to behave, cackling when he pulls away again and sees the very grumpy expression on the man's face.

"It really suits you. In fact, you should consider wearing one every day!" Stiles suggests jovially, snatching Derek's hand in his own when the man makes to pull the hat off again. "Nuh-uh, Sourwolf. My party, my rules, and I say that you have to wear a party hat. You wouldn't want to make me sad now, would you?" He makes his own face look as forlorn as possible, his eyes growing big and wet until Derek sighs as if it pains him and acquiesces.

"Right, let's start with the cake!" Lydia commands, clapping her hands twice and looking expectantly at Jackson until the boy sighs and walks through to the kitchen. He returns a few seconds later with a huge, white box balanced atop his forearms, his hands curled around the far side of it to keep it steady. Lydia helps him set it down on the coffee table and promptly flips the lid open, smirking when everybody edges in closer and peers over the sides to get a glimpse at what's hidden within. "You have Erica's mother to thank for this delicious little piece of heaven. You should definitely consider thanking her whenever you see her next, Stiles, since she baked this just for you. She had my input, of course, every step of the way; trust me when I say you're never going to taste something this good ever again. I should know; I was the taste tester."

Within the box is a twelve-by-eighteen inch sheet cake, similar to the one Erica's mother made for Derek's birthday at the beginning of the year. This time, however, instead of standard frosting, the woman has printed a photograph on the top. Stiles recognises it immediately as the one they'd taken soon after the house was finished, of the pack all gathered together on the sofas, every one of them smiling toothily up at the timed camera he'd balanced carefully on the mantelpiece. "This is amazing..." he breathes, wondering where Lydia managed to get a copy of the photo. As far as he knew, the only two copies of it are the framed version hung on one of the living room walls and the file still on his computer. It's been his desktop wallpaper since the day it was taken.

"Alright, you know the drill, birthday boy," Lydia announces suddenly, cutting through the awed silence that has fallen over the room. She reaches into the side of the box and pulls out the knife she'd put in there in advance, holding it out to Stiles, handle first.

"Hang on a second; I have _got_ to take a picture of this," Stiles responds, quickly pulling his phone from his pocket and holding it up lengthways. The flash goes off a few short seconds later, and he smiles down at the resulting image on the screen before saving it to put on Facebook later. That done, he finally takes the knife from Lydia and does a fast calculation in his head, working out many different pieces he can divide the cake up into. With a practised hand, he cuts it up into twenty equal squares, one for each person present and seven leftover pieces in case anyone wants seconds. He guesses several of the wolves will. Derek hands him a stack of paper plates, and he slides a slice onto each one before handing them off to everybody. He does this until they all have a piece, his mouth watering when he gets a glimpse at the inside of the cake for the first time and sees that it looks incredibly chocolatey. He gives himself the one that has Derek's happy face beaming up at him. The image makes him smile, too, every time he sees it.

When he takes his first bite, he immediately knows why Lydia was praising it so highly before. It's the best cake he's ever tasted, and that includes that ones he's made over the past few months whenever the betas have managed to manipulate him into baking one.

The conversation turns to all of the various things that have happened to the pack over the past couple of weeks, everybody laughing raucously whenever someone says something particularly amusing. Stiles ends up sitting back and just silently observing most of it as he finishes off his cake, feeling a little sad when he slips the last forkful into his mouth. Before any of the betas can snatch up all of the spare pieces, he slips two of them onto his paper plate. "These two are for me and Derek tomorrow, so no one even think of thieving them or you will be punished. Severely," he warns, pointing his fork threateningly around the room, lingering a few seconds longer on Scott than he does on anyone else.

Once everyone else is finished, Lydia looks pointedly at Jackson again until he makes a second trip through to the kitchen, accompanied by Boyd. They return a few seconds later, both of their arms laden with a seemingly endless amount of wrapped boxes, all of varying sizes.

Lydia tells them to set the packages down carefully on the coffee table. "All of them are labelled, so just dive right in, Stiles," she instructs, feeling a sense of elation when she sees the shocked and excited expression on the boy's face, finding his enthusiasm incredibly contagious.

Doing as he's told, Stiles immediately leans forward with a huge smile on his face, picking up the first package that takes his fancy. It's wrapped in glittery emerald green paper, and the label stuck to the top with a bow informs him that it's from Kira. Carelessly ripping off the paper, he uses his nail to peel off the tape sealing the plain cardboard box closed and flips open the flaps, his face lighting up even more when he sees what's hidden within. He pulls out a brand new, soft hoodie. It's tawny in colour, and he laughs happily when he finds two pointy ears are sewn onto the hood. "This is awesome!" he praises, hastily unzipping his old red hoodie and shucking it off onto the floor, slipping on the tawny one immediately afterward. He yanks off the paper cone still on his head and pulls up the hood before turning to face the rest of the room, holding his hands up in front of his face with his fingers curled like claws. "Well? How do I look?"

"Like a dork," Jackson answers, his tone bored as he picks at his nails with disinterest. He wheezes when Lydia elbows him hard in the stomach, quickly backtracking between panted breaths to avoid any more of the girl's violent outbursts. "I mean, looks great!"

"I just thought that, since you love wolves so much, this might help you 'blend in' a bit more, so to speak," Kira explains, proud of herself for managing to choose something that Stiles appears to love so much. It wasn't easy picking out a present for the boy when she doesn't really know him that well.

One by one, Stiles tears through everybody's presents and is pleasantly surprised by how well they've all done; he at least likes every single one, even the new pair of expensive-looking headphones from Jackson. He gets: two new video games he's been wanting to check out from Scott— _Darksiders II_ and _Mass Effect 3_ ; a black, skin-tight shirt with Iron Man's arc reactor in the centre of the chest from Erica; a pink, frilly apron with the words, ' _BEWARE: THE CHEF IS HOT!_ ' printed in black lettering across the front from Cora; a bright red _Deadpool_ shirt from Boyd; a vibrating dildo and a pair of fluffy, pink handcuffs from Danny—"What? I thought you and Derek might find them useful!"; the complete series of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ from Charlie; a new pair of purple _Converse All Stars_ from Isaac; a brand new set of hunting knives from Allison; and the Argent bestiary, completely translated, from Lydia.

Stiles has to explain those last two to Charlie when he sees how wide her eyes get, telling her that Allison comes from a family of hunters and that he has an avid interest in anything mythological. Luckily, the girl seems to buy it.

"Wait...isn't there something missing?" Isaac asks when the last package has been opened and put aside, his tone both confused and curious and his brow scrunched up adorably. "Yeah, where's your present, Derek?" He runs his eyes over the whole room as if he thinks the alpha has hidden it somewhere in there, only stopping when the man in question gets up from his seat and levels him with a half-condescending, half-fond look.

Derek lets up with his intense gaze when it causes Isaac to shift in place uncomfortably. "I was keeping it elsewhere so the surprise wouldn't be ruined," he explains, adjusting his leather jacket and pulling his car keys from the left pocket. He twirls the ring around his index finger and smirks to himself when he sees that everybody's attention is focused solely on him. "Lydia?" When the girl nods and gets up to follow him, he begins heading toward the front door, yelling, "Keep Stiles away from the windows until I get back!" over his shoulder before it slams shut.

Releasing a facetiously offended noise, Stiles scoffs and crosses his arms, leaning back against the sofa cushions and resting one of his legs atop the other, his foot propped up on the coffee table. Even though he keeps up a calm and almost disinterested front, his mind is racing a mile a minute as he waits for Derek to return. He comes up with fantastical ideas and immediately dismisses every one, chastising his brain for presenting him with such ridiculousness. Glancing around the room, he feels a little bit better knowing that, apart from Lydia, no one else appears to be in on whatever Derek has gotten him. When it's been ten minutes and the alpha still hasn't gotten back, he bites at his nails and stands quickly, heading through to the kitchen and getting a glass of milk to distract himself. Turning around, he rolls his eyes and scoffs when he sees that Isaac has tailed him, obviously taking Derek's parting instruction to heart. "Goody two shoes..." he mutters, not at all caring that the beta can still hear him clearly.

"You know if you got something for Derek and the surprise was ruined for him that you'd feel bad, too, so don't even start with me," Isaac remarks, leaning against the door jamb as he waits for Stiles to finish his milk. "This is for your own good."

Pouting, Stiles fills his now-empty glass with water to wash it out and puts it upside down in the dishwasher. "So much for you being my favourite..." he grumbles, smacking Isaac gently on the back of the head on his return to the living room. He catches sight of the other betas trying to smother their laughter and glares at them all. When Isaac sits next to him again, he turns away from him petulantly.

"Please, you know you love me," Isaac dismisses easily, forcibly turning Stiles' head and pulling him into a tight hug. He doesn't release the other boy even when he gets elbowed hard in the ribs and he sees that they're in danger of slipping off of the sofa. "Shh, it'll all be OK. Isaac's here..." His voice is hushed, his hand moving up and tucking Stiles' face into his neck before his fingers tangle in his hair, stroking in soothing motions. When he feels blunt, human teeth bite forcefully into the skin of his neck, he finally allows Stiles to flail away from him, giggling to himself when the other boy finally does fall to the floor. Most of the room joins in, the only ones not laughing with him being Jackson and Boyd. Taking pity on his pack mom, he helps Stiles get back up into his seat in the middle of the sofa.

"You're being demoted. Very bad puppy!" Stiles admonishes testily, brushing the dust from his jeans and making a mental note that he really has to do some vacuuming in there soon before slumping back in his seat. He can feel that his hat is sitting askew on his head, but he doesn't care enough to fix it.

"Oh, stop being such an idiot..." Jackson scolds, returning Stiles' affronted glare with an unimpressed one of his own. The fact that Derek isn't there at that moment allows him to feel safe berating the human teen, otherwise he wouldn't dare for fear of being growled into submission. "And you don't have to wait much longer; Derek's almost here."

Charlie looks between the two boys with a frown on her face. "How do you know that?" she asks Jackson curiously, turning to look over her shoulder at the front door just to make sure she didn't somehow miss the sound of it opening again or something.

Thinking quick on his feet, Jackson holds up his phone and smirks confidently. "He just texted me," he explains, breathing a sigh of relief when Charlie nods and looks away again, satisfied. He sees Erica's eyes narrow in his direction out of the corner of his own and knows that the blonde is going to report his little slip to Lydia as soon as the banshee gets back. He hopes that she doesn't give him the same punishment he had last time, shuddering as he recalls the traumatic event.

Jumping up from his seat, Stiles walks through to the foyer when he hears the front door open, ignoring Lydia when the girl flounces past him without a second glance. He overhears her telling the rest of the room to stay put, that Derek wanted to give him his gift without a big audience. Speaking of the alpha, he's confused when the man steps through the door with empty arms, though he is pleased to see that he left the party hat on during whatever it was he was doing. Closing the distance between them, his bewilderment increases when Derek immediately steps behind him and covers his eyes with hands. "Um, what's going on?" he asks, walking forward obediently when his mate tells him to do so. It feels strange to walk blindly out of the house, and navigating the stairs is a little tricky, but he trusts his mate not to let him injure himself. Once their feet hit the snow-covered grass, they walk a few feet more before coming to a stop.

"You ready?" Derek asks, leaning in close to Stiles' ear and whispering the words. He smirks when he's able to detect the smallest shiver running through the teen's body. When Stiles squeaks out a quiet, "Yes," he finally removes his hands, stepping back a little bit so his mate can get the full effect. Glancing quickly behind himself at the house to see whether or not they're being watched, he rolls his eyes when he sees the curtains fluttering slightly, like someone quickly moved away from the window.

Stiles stands breathless and frozen in his spot in front of the house. He blinks hard a couple of times like he believes what he's seeing isn't real and that it'll disappear at any moment. [The car](https://s25.postimg.org/og3hmc1t9/Smouldering_Hearts_Camaro.jpg) is positioned lengthways a few feet away, the bright blue paint shining in the mid-afternoon sun. Everything about it looks pristine and new, and he circles around it slowly, taking in every detail. His hand shakes as he reaches out to touch it, his fingers skating across the metal lettering on the doors which spells out ' _CAMARO_ '. His voice cracks when he finally manages to turn away from the vehicle to face Derek again. "What is this...?" he enquires quietly, his eyes snapping to the alpha's hand when he pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket. At first, he thinks they're Derek's, but then he notices the absence of the little silver wolf keychain he'd gotten the man on a whim a few months ago.

"It's your birthday present," Derek says gently, not sure what to make of Stiles' reaction. He doesn't know whether the teen actually likes it or not, since the tears he can see building in the other's eyes could go either way. Stepping forward to join Stiles next to the car, he takes his mate's hand and drops the keys down in his palm.

Running his fingers over the metal almost reverently, Stiles takes a shuddering breath before meeting Derek's eyes again. "I can't believe you did this..." he whispers, darting forward suddenly and burying his face in his mate's chest, his arms wrapping around the alpha's torso to hold on for dear life as the tears finally spill over. He pushes impossibly closer when Derek's own arms come around him in return, leaving absolutely no space between their bodies as he struggles to get a hold of himself. Derek's calming scent does wonders to help him and with one last sniffle, he finally reigns his emotions back in. "I love you so fucking much."

Stiles' voice is muffled in the material of his shirt, but Derek still understands the words perfectly. He presses a soft kiss to the crown of the teen's head and squeezes him tightly, closing his eyes and enjoying the closeness. "I love you, too, Stiles. Happy birthday."


	9. Workout

Derek and Stiles stand in their embrace for a few minutes longer, neither one really wanting to let go of the other. Eventually, though, Stiles pulls away reluctantly and blinks away the remaining wetness from his eyes, embarrassed about the sudden display of emotion. His hand is still clenched around the keys for his new car, and he looks up from examining them again when he feels Derek's hand on his shoulder. The alpha leads him around to the driver's-side door before opening it for him.

"Feel like taking it on a test drive?" Derek suggests, a gentle smile still on his face. He's unable to wipe it off, his relief that Stiles seems to love his gift is so great. It transforms into something a lot more toothy when the teen lets out a great squeal and immediately hops in behind the wheel, practically vibrating with excitement. "I'll take that as a yes."

Shutting the driver's-side door with a soft click, Derek wanders back around the passenger side and slides into his seat, buckling himself in and watching as Stiles turns his head left and right over and over as he takes everything in.

"God, this is fucking amazing!" Stiles gushes, running his hands over every available surface. He strokes over the steering wheel before taking the keys and inserting them into the ignition, turning them slowly and grinning over at Derek when the engine rumbles to life. "It's so quiet!" Putting the car into gear, he presses down lightly on the pedal and eases them along the driveway, getting a feel for how it handles. Derek gives him pointers along the way, since he's never driven a car like this before and the man can see how nervous he is about potentially accidentally crashing into a tree or something. He maintains his sedate pace for a little while when they get down onto the main road, thankful that there aren't any other vehicles around to get annoyed at him. Soon, his confidence grows and he feels up to pressing his foot down a little bit harder, his fingers tightening around the wheel as he tries to get used to how responsive it is. The smallest difference in pressure changes the speed quite a bit.

Stiles takes them in a complete loop around Beacon Hills, not wanting to ever stop driving. In the short amount of time since they left the rest of the pack back at the house, he's already fallen in love with the car. He can't wait until school the following Monday, already picturing in his mind all of the shocked and envious expressions that'll be on the other students' faces when he parks up in lot in the morning.

Not wanting to leave the rest of the pack and Charlie alone for too much longer, Stiles steers the car back down the road leading to the house, pulling to a stop almost expertly right next to Derek's black Camaro. They make quite the pair, he thinks approvingly.

"So, what do you think?" Derek asks as they continue to sit in their seats, breaking the awed silence. He's quite proud of how quickly Stiles has adjusted to the new controls, the teen already seeming comfortable and at home behind the wheel. He was anticipating it to take a bit longer, but he guesses it's just like Stiles to go against all of his expectations and surprise him in the best ways possible.

"I love it," Stiles replies, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the logo in the middle of the steering wheel. He really means it; from the rims on the wheels to the colour of the paint, everything about it is perfect. "It must've cost a fortune, though... I can't believe you spent that much on me."

Expelling a small puff of air out through his nose with amusement, Derek turns slightly in his seat and takes Stiles' right hand in his. "Of course I did. Money is no object, and even if it was, it'd be worth every cent to see that smile on your face," he explains quietly, looking away from Stiles' love-filled eyes. He feels a little awkward saying something so sappy, but he means every single word. The sound of Stiles unbuckling his seatbelt fills the car before his mate clambers over toward him, ending up sat in his lap. A startled little yelp escapes him at the sudden change, but he takes Stiles' weight easily and his hands come up to rest on the teen's hips almost automatically. When he tilts his head back to look up at Stiles' face, his eyes slip closed in bliss when their lips meet tenderly, his mate kissing him slowly. He can feel every single emotion the teen feels for him and they go straight to his heart, making him genuinely worry that it'll burst out of his chest with how big it gets.

"How did I ever get so lucky...?" Stiles asks breathlessly when he finally pulls away, his lips feeling wet and swollen from the small bites Derek put into the kiss. He swipes his tongue out over them to soothe the slight ache, snorting when he notices that Derek's eyes are tracking the movement, the alpha's head leaning back against the headrest and his thumbs rubbing circles into his hipbones beneath his shirt.

Derek can sense the exact moment they get an audience, but for once, he doesn't care in the slightest. He's far too relaxed to offer up any protests or even point out the fact to Stiles. He can feel the teen's erection pressed against his own hardening cock, and he has to try really hard to resist bucking up into it. "Perhaps you were really good in a past life?" he jokes, smiling when Stiles tosses his head back and laughs loudly. The sound of the front door opening reaches his ears, and he turns in its direction to see the pack all filtering out through it, probably coming to investigate what's taking them so long.

"Mmm, I still have to come up with a way to thank you properly for this, you know..." Stiles points out huskily, his gaze heated. He makes all of Derek's restraint futile when he grinds his own hips down instead, their hard cocks rubbing together maddeningly. "I'm gonna ride your brains out when everyone's gone."

Lydia knocks on the car window, bringing Stiles and Derek out of their staring contest. "Are you two going to sit in there all day or are you actually going to come and join us again at some point?" she asks somewhat testily, pleased that Stiles appears to be enjoying himself but a little ticked off that all her hard work is going unappreciated. She steps back from the door when the boy pushes it open, almost falling out of the car as he tries to climb off of Derek. He's as ungraceful as ever. "Good choice. Now, we're all going to get changed in preparation for the rest of what we have planned for you, Stiles, so you'd best be ready, too, by the time we get back. I've laid out clothes on your bed for both you and Derek, so don't even think of changing into something else." After pointing an accusatory finger at Stiles, she grabs Jackson's hand and begins the walk down the driveway to where she'd made the beta park his car. It's quite a distance away, since she didn't want Stiles to see see it before they could surprise him with the party.

A few seconds later, Derek joins the rest of the pack outside and shuts the car door behind himself, making sure he stands close behind Stiles to conceal the fact that his erection hasn't quite gone down yet. He follows when everyone else heads back inside the house to collect their things.

"What was Lydia talking about, 'the rest of what we have planned'?" Stiles asks Danny after he shuts the front door. He sits down on the sofa and watches as everyone puts on their coats and scarves, leaning back with his arms crossed in front of his chest when he doesn't immediately receive an answer. He glances over his shoulder when he notices that Derek hasn't joined him and frowns when he doesn't find a single trace of the alpha anywhere in the room.

"Here," Danny says simply, slipping something out of his wallet and handing it off to Stiles. It's the other boy's fake ID. He'd already given everybody else theirs while Stiles and Derek were off taking the new car for a test drive. A seed of jealousy had taken root in his stomach when he'd looked out of the window and seen it for the first time, wishing that he could afford something so nice.

Stiles looks down at the flat piece of plastic in his hands, turning it over a couple of times as he examines every inch of it. When he spies that his birthday has been pushed back by three years, he makes a noise of understanding. "So...we're going out drinking or something?" he asks, standing again and sliding the fake ID into his back pocket when Danny just nods at him. By this point, most of the other pack members have already left, not bothering to say goodbye since they'll be meeting up again in a short while. He glances at the presents still piled up on the coffee table and vacillates between dealing with them now or later. He decides to go with the latter, figuring it'd be best if he gets ready as soon as possible so that he doesn't keep Lydia waiting. After Danny and Isaac exit the house as well, leaving him and Derek alone, he goes upstairs and into their bedroom. The alpha is stood next to the bed, eyeing the clothes laid out on the sheets critically. When he steps up next to Derek, he can see why.

The garments Lydia has chosen for both of them are considerably more flashy than everything else either of them are used to wearing; they look a lot tighter, too, especially the ones meant for Derek. Shrugging to himself, Stiles sheds his clothes quickly and tries to squeeze into the black jeans he guesses are his. He can barely walk after he pops the button closed and does up the zipper, but when he turns his head, he catches a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror that stands across the room. Nodding approvingly, he can see why Lydia picked these out for him; they frame his ass perfectly.

"Does Lydia really expect me to wear _this_?!" Derek asks incredulously, finally moving forward and picking up his t-shirt. He holds it away from himself as if he's afraid it'll come to life and bite him on the face. He doesn't remember ever buying it, so he guesses that Lydia must have taken it upon herself to provide outfits for them without getting their input.

"Just try it on and see how it looks..." Stiles replies distractedly, tugging on his own shirt next. It's emerald green in colour and, just as he was expecting, it clings to every part of his torso; when he looks down, he can see the planes of each lithe muscle shifting as he breathes, the fabric unbelievably soft against his skin. Since he's still a little cold from the snow outside, his nipples create two very noticeable bumps, which make him feel a little self-conscious. Nevertheless, he resolves that he's going to ignore that minor flaw and embrace how every other part of his body looks in Lydia's chosen outfit. It's not often that he thinks he's attractive—the only times he really does is when he and Derek make love and the alpha will look at him as if he's the most beautiful and precious thing in the world—but he can admit that he looks pretty damn good in that moment. If it wasn't for the fact that he wants to avoid giving Lydia the satisfaction and that he'd miss his flannel and superhero-themed clothes, he'd ask the girl to pick out an entirely new wardrobe for him.

Sighing, Derek pulls off his leather jacket and lays it down next to the clothes on the bed before stripping out of the rest of his clothes as well. He throws them on top of the pile Stiles just made on the floor. The t-shirt Lydia chose for him is skin-tight and thin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

As good-looking as he knows himself to be, objectively speaking, Derek doesn't feel too comfortable doing anything to show off and give people even more of a reason to stare at him.

Derek doesn't really have a problem with his body being on display around Stiles and the rest of the pack, within reason. He works hard to maintain it and he likes to see the fruits of his labours be appreciated. Strangers are another thing entirely, though. After he pulls the trousers up his legs and zips them shut, he looks down and sees the way they cup his crotch, putting his soft cock and balls on clear display; it looks like he's not even wearing any underwear. "I'm gonna kill her..." he seethes, gritting his teeth. He can't believe Lydia would think he'd go out in public looking like that. Bringing out his claws, he's just about to tear the trousers apart when Stiles wraps a hand around his wrist and stops him.

"Don't rip them to shreds, you dummy," Stiles admonishes fondly, meeting the glare Derek sends his way with a playful grin. "I know these clothes are pretty...exposing, let's say, but I think you look super hot. Besides, mine do the same thing." He he does a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree spin to prove his point, pausing halfway through to give Derek a chance to stare predictably at his ass. "It could be fun."

Huffing, Derek concedes Stiles' point and doesn't feel at all embarrassed about getting caught ogling the teen when he turns back around. "I suppose you're right..." he mumbles, checking himself out in the mirror, "but as soon as this night is over, these clothes are never seeing the light of day again."

"Suit yourself," Stiles replies, amused at how easy it was to bring Derek around to his way of thinking. He plans on getting at least one more usage out of his new clothes before they disappear, though, already plotting the many different ways he could strut around in them in front of Derek and drive him wild. They'll probably get destroyed when the alpha gets stick of his teasing, but he doesn't mind. As long as Lydia doesn't find out what happened to them, they'll be fine. "Do you know what time we're supposed to be meeting the others?" He's a little curious about how Derek will take the rest of the evening, since the man isn't usually the type to go out partying. He doesn't even think his mate partook in any of that when he was single and living in New York City. It would surprise him greatly if he did.

Looking at his phone, Derek feels a sense of dread building in his stomach when he sees that it's approaching eight in the evening. "We're supposed to gather outside Jungle in half an hour," he explains simply, hoping that he won't have too terrible a time. He doesn't want to ruin the rest of Stiles' day.

"Hmm, this should be interesting... You in a gay club," Stiles muses, thinking back to the last time he'd been inside of the place, when he and Scott were tailing the kanima. He smiles to himself as he remembers how he'd been accosted by a bunch of drag queens. They'd actually been pretty fun and he knows that if he hadn't been in such a dire situation back then, he'd have willingly gone along with them and badgered them with endless questions. It's a fascinating profession, he thinks, and his curiosity about it has only grown since Danny introduced him to the wonders of _RuPaul's Drag Race_ a few months ago.

"I've been to gay clubs before, Stiles, back in New York," Derek mumbles, tugging at the hem of his shirt when it keeps riding up and exposing his stomach. "Laura used to drag me to one that was pretty close to where we lived. She used to say that they were the funnest places to party, but I think she just liked that there weren't really any straight guys in there to hit on her all night..."

Derek shudders and scrunches his nose up as he remembers how that was definitely not the case for him. Luckily, a short growl had always been enough to deter all of the horny old men that used to approach him back then. His sister had never been any help, finding the whole thing hilarious.

"Whatever. Let's just get going," Stiles dismisses, handing Derek his leather jacket before leading the way downstairs. He lets Derek drive, not really wanting to take his brand new car to the lot of a nightclub. It doesn't take long and, before he knows it, they're parked up and walking down the read toward Jungle, keeping an eye out for any of the others. They find the rest of the pack gathered at the end of the queue to get inside, all of them with their new fake IDs at the ready. The loud music can be heard blaring through the walls, almost shaking the ground in its intensity.

Lydia is the first to spot Stiles and Derek approaching. "It's about damn time you two got here!" she yells, looking over their outfits approvingly. "You look great!"

Stiles is shocked at how different Charlie looks from her usual self. Gone are the mismatched clothes and the minimal makeup, replaced with a stark white crop top, a skimpy leather skirt and fishnet leggings. Her pin-straight hair has changed as well. It's now full of loose waves that frame her face perfectly.

The line moves slowly, and it takes almost half an hour for the group to reach the front of it. They all flash their IDs at the bouncer before heading inside, filtering in through the door and weaving through the crowd to get to the bar on the other side of the room. The place is a real spectacle, the dance floor a sea of writhing bodies and bright lights. They all stick together for the time being after finding several stools free, taking seats on them and ordering the first round of drinks from the bartender. Everyone has brought their own money except for Stiles, though he doesn't have to worry about being left out. Derek graciously pays for his drink, making an exception to his rule about not buying the pack alcohol since it's his birthday. "Dude, thanks! This is awesome!" he shouts to the alpha, only just hearing his own voice over the music still blasting from the speakers.

"Don't expect it all the time," Derek warns, looking away from Stiles' grinning face before the teen can notice the mirrored smile on his own. His nose is a little irritated by the stench of sweat, old come and alcohol in the air, but he figures he can put up with it for a while.

After making sure no one else is watching, Lydia slips a packet of wolfsbane from her pocket and hands it around to the betas, each of them putting a small amount in their chosen drinks so they can feel the effects of the alcohol as well. The night is bound to be more fun that way. Once Jackson has downed his beverage, he drags Lydia out onto the dance floor, the pair quickly getting lost in the crowd.

It doesn't take long for everyone else to follow their lead, disappearing pair by pair. Surprisingly, Charlie is pulled out onto the floor by a quickly inebriated Cora. The redhead looks around the place with wonder and allows the youngest Hale to guide her movements. Soon enough, the two of them are grinding up against each other, and Charlie can't help but think of what her mother's reaction would be if the woman were to see her in that moment. The thought makes her laugh happily, enjoying the rush of danger she feels.

In the end, it's just Derek and Stiles left sitting at the bar, the teen still nursing his own drink. He's gone for something fruity, a lemon wedge hanging off the rim of the tall glass. It makes a change from the liquor he stole from his dad over the years. He definitely prefers it. "Aren't you gonna get anything?" he asks Derek, pulling the man out of his reverie.

Derek goes to shake his head, but quickly buckles when Stiles looks at him sadly. He sighs before flagging down the bartender again and ordering something strong, waving Stiles off when the teen goes to tip some wolfsbane in the dark liquid. "Someone has to remain sober throughout this whole thing, and if I'm going to be driving you home later, then I think that someone should be me, hmm?" he points out, taking his first sip. He licks his lips and finds that he rather enjoys the taste. Even though regular alcohol has no effect on him until it's in ludicrously large doses, he makes a mental note to himself to start buying some again.

The pair of them stay sitting at the bar for another hour or so, Stiles getting Derek to buy him drink after drink. The alpha looks increasingly unsure, but a quick batting of his eyelashes always gets Stiles his way. This goes on until he flies past tipsy and right into flat-out drunk, his confidence growing and his inhibitions all but vanishing.

Wanting to join in on the fun—he figures that was the whole point of coming out there in the first place—Stiles downs the rest of his current drink and slams the glass back down on the bar before grabbing Derek's hand. It takes some serious pulling since the man is unwilling to leave his stool, but eventually, Derek seems to get tired of resisting and allows himself to be dragged out into the crowd with the rest of the pack. Stiles pulls them right into the thick of it all before stopping and turning to Derek with a mischievous glint in his eye. He's thankful that Lydia and Allison had given him a brief lesson on how to dance properly during Derek's birthday party at the beginning of the year; it now allows him to move his hips and grind up on his mate without feeling like he's doing something wrong and making himself look like an idiot. He makes a complete circle around Derek before realising that the alpha is apparently not going to do his part.

Stiles huffs up at his mate's unimpressed face and pouts. "C'mon, Sourwolf! Dance with me!" he whines, taking Derek's hands and putting them on his ass before doing the same with his own. He makes sure to cop a good feel, squeezing the older man's firm globes appreciatively. "I'll make it worth your while..." He winks devilishly, bucking his hips forward so that their crotches rub together.

Relenting, Derek listens to the music and tries to match his movements to the beat. He's a little amazed that Stiles is able to keep up without a problem, though he guesses that the teen has the alcohol in his system to thank for removing his self-consciousness.

The fact that Stiles is practically writhing against him reignites the fire that started burning in Derek's gut earlier, and he feels himself growing hard in his jeans. He doesn't have the heart to tell his mate to stop, though, not when he gets a glimpse at the happy and carefree expression on his face. Soon enough, it's like all of the other people on the dance floor disappear, leaving just the two of them in their own little world. The heady scent of _Stiles_ fills his nose and, after a while, he can't resist leaning forward and capturing the teen's mouth in a fierce kiss, running high on the energy of the room. There's a hint of salt on his mate's tongue that mixes with the fruit of the drink he'd had a few minutes ago, but beneath all of that is the pure taste of his mate, a taste that never fails to drive him insane.

Derek guesses that Stiles is as affected by the kiss as he is, the teen letting out a seemingly endless stream of moans and tiny whimpers into his mouth as it goes on. He doesn't ever want it to stop, which, of course, is when they're interrupted. Someone crashes into his side, knocking him off-balance and Stiles to the floor.

His head spinning as Derek helps him back to his feet, Stiles has to blink a couple of times to get his mate's stupidly attractive face to swim into focus again. When it does, he runs his hands over the man's body, not stopping until he's checked every inch. "Dude, you OK?" he asks, his words slurring slightly and his voice dripping with needless worry, since he was the one who actually took a tumble. It's then that he notices someone lingering next to them. He turns to find Charlie stood there, looking incredibly guilty. "Oh, it was you!"

Before Charlie can apologise, Cora suddenly appears beside her and tries to drag her back over to where they'd been dancing. "C'mon, you can't stop now! We were just getting to the good part!" she exclaims, waving a quick hello to Stiles and Derek before taking Charlie with her as she disappears back into the crowd.

"What the hell is up with those two?" Stiles asks confusedly, his head tilted to the side. It still feels a little sore because of how hard he had hit it against the floor when he'd fallen, but it's lessening slowly with time. Derek looks as baffled as he does, so he just pushes the question out of his mind and slides his hands beneath the alpha's leather jacket, aiming to fit them around his ass again and continue dancing. Surprisingly, even though Derek's jeans are ludicrously tight, he finds he's just able to wedge his fingers beneath the waistband, where his palms are met with the warm, hair-dusted muscles of the alpha's ass. He squeezes them appreciatively. This seems to spur Derek into action as well, and he melts against the man again as their bodies start to move to the music and their mouths clash.

Stiles tries to take control of the kiss, but as usual, he quickly finds himself outmatched and just holds on for the ride as Derek's tongue plunders his mouth, sucking on it eagerly and revelling in the rumbling he feels build in the alpha's chest in return.

After a couple of minutes, Stiles' fingertips begin to explore, creeping closer to the centre of Derek's ass. When one of the digits presses right up against his hole, Derek growls loudly and feels grateful that his eyes are already shut when he's unable to stop them from flashing red. He doubts anyone else would notice with all of the other colours flying around in people's hands, but he'd rather be safe now than sorry later.

In retaliation, Derek eases his own hand between them and rubs at Stiles' hard cock through his jeans, drinking in the small mewl he gets in return. The sensual movements of Stiles' body falter against his own, so he uses his other hand to grip the teen's hip and guide him. Everything in his own body is telling him to take Stiles out of the crowded room they're in and find somewhere more secluded, but he keeps them right where they are, amid a sea of strangers. His wolf certainly seems to approve of the idea that, if anybody else should see something, they'll know that Stiles' is his and his alone.

After thumbing open the button of Stiles' jeans, Derek licks his palm and works his hand down into the teen's boxers, gripping his erection firmly and stroking from base to tip, their skin slicked with his saliva.

When Stiles stops all pretences of dancing and just bucks into his hand, Derek pulls away and stares down into the lust-blown eyes of his mate. His pupils are large with alcohol and arousal, and he can't help thinking that it's a very good look on him. It doesn't take him long to bring Stiles to the edge, and with one last particularly filthy pump of his hand, his wrist twisting on the upstroke, the teen shudders through his orgasm, his head flopping forward to rest against his collarbone.

Wetness coats his hand. Derek keeps stroking Stiles through his orgasm until a small whine lets him know that it's crossed from pleasure into over-stimulated pain. Only then does he let up, taking his hand out of Stiles' underwear.

Making sure that his mate is watching, Derek licks the teen's release from his hand, his tongue slotting between all of his fingers to make sure he catches every drop. "So fucking delicious..." he growls, smirking when he notices that Stiles appears to have been rendered speechless. He's not lying either; if he could, he'd never eat anything else and just live off of Stiles' come for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, the teen might just shrivel up and die of dehydration if he tried. Shaking himself out of that thought, he backs away a couple of paces when Stiles reaches for the zipper of his jeans, no doubt wanting to return the favour. "Don't worry about me." He smiles reassuringly, he head finally beginning to protest the loud music.

Seeing that Stiles also appears to be losing energy fast—probably caused by his recent orgasm—Derek does the teen's jeans up for him before pulling him with a gentle hand through the crowd. He's on the lookout for any other member of the pack, intent on letting at least one of them know that they're leaving before they actually do so to avoid anyone worrying.

After a minute of searching, Derek catches sight of flaming red hair a few feet in front of him. Pushing through the last bodies between himself and Stiles and who he guesses is Charlie, he breathes a sigh of relief when he finds the girl leaning against the wall at the edge of the dance floor.

Derek's relief quickly turns to confusion and embarrassment when he sees that she's not alone. Cora is there as well, and apparently he's just walked in on a rather private moment. The girls' mouths remain locked together for a second before Cora's eyes open, staring directly at him for a moment. He coughs awkwardly when they separate. "Umm, I just wanted to let someone know that Stiles and I are heading home now, so...yeah," he mumbles, unable to look his sister in the eye. Without another word, he turns tail and strides away, Stiles still clinging to his hand and being dragged along behind him.

"Well, that was interesting," Stiles comments casually when he and Derek finally find the club's exit. The cold night air feels incredibly refreshing on his overheated skin.

"Let's not talk about it, OK?" Derek asks, a small hint of revulsion still in his voice. He doesn't ever want to see his sister in a position like that again, though he guesses that there is one upside to the whole spectacle—he no longer has to worry about Charlie coming between him and Stiles in any way, unprompted though that worry may have been. He steers a drunken Stiles down the street, heading in the direction of the car. The teen weaves across the pavement in a childlike manner, which he tells himself he absolutely does _not_ find endearing in the slightest. When they finally reach the Camaro, he goes to open the passenger door for Stiles, only to turn and find that his mate is staring up at the sky with wonder in his wide eyes. "Stiles?"

Distracted, Stiles doesn't hear Derek talking to him until the man places a hand on his shoulder and tries to get him into the car again. "The moon's so big!" he exclaims, pointing up at the large, white sphere. It's only half complete, and this reminds him that there's another full moon in a week's time. He wonders if the strange pull he feels in that moment is anything like what Derek experiences.

Following Stiles' finger, Derek joins his mate in marvelling at how large the moon looks in the sky. It's unusual; he doesn't remember hearing anywhere that it would be that big.

Derek's wolf paces inside of his head at the sight, full of anxious and excited energy. It's been years since he lost control, and he doesn't even really feel it that much on the night now that he's mated to Stiles. He supposes that their bond helps to calm him, and even when he does get restless on those rare occasions, he has other, much more enjoyable ways of expending that energy.

When the moon disappears behind a cloud, Derek finally breaks free of his staring and attempts for a third time to wrangle his mate into his car. Stiles seems much more cooperative this time, thankfully, batting his hands away when he tries to do up the teen's seatbelt for him. He holds his palms out apologetically before backing away, shutting the passenger-side door and getting in behind the wheel. Even with the late hour, the streets in that part of town are quite busy, so he has to navigate between the other cars and pedestrians carefully to avoid accidentally damaging his own. The further they get out of the town, the quieter things become, until the Camaro's headlights are the only light source on the roads. Glancing over at Stiles, Derek is a little shocked that the teen appears to still be awake; he thought for sure that he'd be carrying him up to bed again, not that he'd mind. Their house looks peaceful when he comes to stop in front of it, Stiles' new car shining brightly in the light before he shuts off the engine and plunges them into darkness.

Derek uses his preternatural eyesight to usher Stiles in through the front door and up the stairs. He leaves the teen to get ready for bed while he retrieves some water from the bathroom, bringing it to his mate before he can actually slip beneath the covers. "Drink this," he instructs with a raised eyebrow.

Gulping down the water, Stiles smacks his lips after he's finished and hands the glass back to Derek. He sighs happily when he's finally allowed to flop back against the pillows, wiggling in place to get more comfortable. His efforts are quickly thwarted when Derek swipes the sheets out from underneath his body and climbs in beside him, though he doesn't complain when the alpha immediately covers them both and snuggles up close beside him. "Mmm, snuggly wolf..." he mumbles, nuzzling his face into the middle of Derek's furry chest. "Snuggly, cuddly wolf..." His hand grips the waistband of Derek's boxer-briefs as his eyes quickly slip closed, the alcohol still in his system helping him fall asleep at record speed.

For his part, Derek just lies there and lets Stiles use him as a pillow. He shakes his head fondly at the teen's quiet words, wondering how he landed himself with such a dork. He wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

_\- Sunday, August 26th, 2012 -_

Surprisingly, Stiles wakes up without a single problem the next morning. His head doesn't so much as twinge once when he sits up in bed, though his throat does feel a little dry. He makes a quick trip to bathroom before heading downstairs to get a glass a water to the fix the problem, the cold liquid going down smooth and settling in his stomach, giving him a nice full feeling. A relaxed smile appears on his lips when he traipses through to the living room and sees all of the decorations from his surprise party yesterday remain hung up around the walls, his presents still piled on top of the coffee table. He pulls on the wolf hoodie before beginning to sort through the rest, putting them in the places around the house he guesses he'll get the most use out of them. The apron replaces his old, slightly frayed one in the kitchen, and he makes a mental note to donate it to a charity shop or something whenever he finds the time, since it still has some use in it.

The shoes get put by the front door, the hunting knives go down in the basement, and the bestiary and video games up to the third floor. Stiles takes the rest of it upstairs. He shakes his head and chuckles quietly to himself when he shoves the dildo and handcuffs Danny had given him into one of the drawers in the dresser, joining the butt plug Derek said he'd bought weeks ago. They're starting quite the collection, it seems, and he wonders with a thrill what else they could get in the future.

Speaking of Derek, the alpha shows no signs of waking, lying on his stomach right in the middle of the bed. Stiles thinks that just won't do. He jumps up on the mattress and flops down right on top of his mate's back, getting amusement out of the way Derek's body tenses up immediately beneath him.

"You've got to stop doing that..." Derek complains, his voice muffled in the pillow. Turning over onto his back—and rolling Stiles off of him in the process—he rubs at his eyes tiredly before sitting up and sliding out of bed, intent on getting ready for his usual Sunday morning workout. Stiles walks downstairs with him, though they part ways when they get to the door that leads down into the basement. He presses a quick kiss to the teen's cheek before descending the steps, leaving his mate to do whatever he wants. He thinks he can hear pots and pans being moved around overhead, from what he guesses is the direction of the kitchen, so he comes to the conclusion that Stiles is going to be taking care of breakfast that morning.

After a while, still on the ground floor, Stiles starts to feel restless. He has all of this pent-up energy and nothing to pour it into, and he's left standing in the middle of the kitchen for a couple of minutes as he wonders what he can do about it.

It's then that Stiles remembers what he'd promised Derek after he'd finished taking his new car for a spin the previous afternoon. He smiles to himself. Leaving the food to cool on the stove—they can reheat it later—Stiles grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and exits the kitchen before going to join Derek in the basement.

Like he was expecting, quiet grunting and laboured breathing reaches Stiles' ears as he descends the stairs, the sight that greets him taking his breath away.

Derek's back is facing Stiles as he does pull-ups on a bar that's screwed high between two pillars. The mirrors that line the far wall allow him to see absolutely everything. His mate is shirtless, wearing nothing but the pair of basketball shorts that has become so familiar to him in the time they've been together.

Playful hazel eyes meet his immediately in the reflection, and Stiles tries to look as innocent as possible as he approaches the man. "Don't mind me... Just k-keep doing your thing," he stutters, his brain not functioning properly again yet. All of Derek's muscles bulge obscenely when he pulls himself up again, his chin easily reaching the bar. Stiles feels a trail of drool leak out from the corner of his mouth, and he reaches up to wipe it away absentmindedly as he continues staring. He resolutely ignores the way Derek is smirking at him in the mirror, not at all embarrassed at how obviously he's checking the man out. It's his prerogative as his mate, after all.

Sweat drips down Derek's back as the man carries on doing his pull-ups, and Stiles is unable to look away as a trail of it runs over all of the bumps of shifting muscle. It flows into the dip of the alpha's spine, running down the long length of tanned skin before disappearing below the waistband of his shorts. He wants to get closer and lick the trail away, to follow the lines of black ink with his tongue and taste every inch of glistening skin.

"Are you gonna actually do something or are you just gonna stand there and stare?"

The sudden question snaps Stiles out of his ogling, and he blinks dumbly at Derek's reflection before holding up the bottle of water he still has clutched in his hand. He's squeezing it pretty damn hard, he's so turned on, his fingers digging into the plastic to the point where he's actually afraid he might pop the top off and spray water all over the floor.

With one last pull-up, Derek releases the bar from his hands and drops gracefully to the floor, feeling a satisfying burn in the muscles of his arms from his workout as he walks over to Stiles. He accepts the water gratefully, chugging it down and emptying the bottle in a matter of seconds. A little bit of it spills out around his mouth, but he doesn't mind. The cold liquid feels good as it runs down his body, mixing with the sweat on his skin and helping to cool him down again. "Thanks," he gasps when he pulls the bottle away from his mouth, his eyes zeroing in on the obvious tent in Stiles' underwear. "See something you like?"

Derek chuckles when Stiles blushes bright red and looks down, breaking eye contact. Screwing the cap back on, he puts the empty bottle on the small table by the stairs to put in the recycling bin later.

Getting an idea as he watches Derek walk over to the weight bench, Stiles intercepts the alpha before he can get into position. He keeps his mate standing by wrapping his hands around his bare hips, leaning in close to his ear and rubbing their cheeks together. The burn of Derek's stubble against his own smooth skin is definitely something he can get on board with.

Standing this close together, enveloped now in Derek's musky scent, Stiles' cock twitches in the confines of his underwear as a drop of pre-come leaks from the slit, dampening the fabric noticeably. "I believe there's something I said I would do yesterday that I have yet to follow through on, involving this..." he breathes, reaching around Derek's body and palming his hand over his mate's still-flaccid cock. He enjoys the way the alpha seems so affected by his words, a soft gasp falling from Derek's lips as he remembers what he's talking about. "I still have to thank you properly for your oh-so-generous gift, and if I remember correctly, I think I promised that I would 'ride your brains out'? You want that, want me to slide down on your huge cock and milk all your come out?"

"God, yes..." Derek pants, his breath already coming out fast and sharp again. It amazes him how Stiles can go from being teased to the one doing the teasing in the blink of an eye, and his wolf howls with approval in his head at the idea of their mate taking charge for once. It's rare that it happens, but he loves it every time.

Releasing the bulge of Derek's cock from his hold, Stiles fits his fingertips around the waistband of the alpha's basketball shorts and yanks them down, allowing them to fall to the floor where their owner steps out of them.

Stiles' mouth drops open again when he steps back and sees what Derek is wearing underneath. The jockstrap doesn't look particularly new, and he wonders how it is that he's never seen it before. The straps frame Derek's hair-dusted cheeks perfectly, the light grey elastic hugging the backs of the alpha's thighs and making his ass look even more pert than it usually does. "Damn..." he sighs, his breath blowing out warm across Derek's shoulder, making the man shiver in response. His cups a hand around one of his mate's perfect cheeks and uses the other to push him down and forward so that he's kneeling and leaning over the bench, his ass sticking out invitingly. Slithering down to the floor himself, he leans in close to where Derek's cheeks part and licks a long line up the crack.

Derek lets out a pleasured groan as he feels Stiles' slick tongue slip between his cheeks the slightest bit, just grazing his hole. The sound morphs into something more frustrated when the organ moves on before any proper stimulation can be had.

"Fucking love your ass," Stiles whispers, his voice awed. Using his hands, he parts Derek's cheeks and feels his eyes grow hooded with lust at the sight with which he's greeted. The alpha's tight little hole twitches in anticipation, the muscles of his cheeks flexing beneath his palms. Leaning in close, he runs his nose up and down the crack, the tip catching on Derek's hole each time and making the man grunt above him. "You should sit on my face every time you're done with a workout, 'cause God _damn_...you smell so fucking amazing."

When Stiles finally attacks his ass properly with his tongue, Derek pants out his pleasure against the padded bench, resting his forehead against it and gripping the edges with his hands. Stiles' tongue feels amazing gliding over his hole, pausing every now and then to prod at the tight muscle. He tries his best to relax so that the tip slips in further each time, sighing in satisfaction when his hole finally gives way and he feels the slick muscle invade his ass deep. Blunt nails dig into his cheeks as Stiles goes crazy, eating him out like a starving man. His cock fills out inside his jockstrap, but when he goes to reach down and release it, Stiles knocks his hand away. Whining quietly at the denial, he hunches over a bit further so that his erection rubs against the bench through the soft fabric, which also pushes his ass back against his mate's face with every movement of his hips.

Derek cries out when a hand comes down on his ass unexpectedly, the sudden spark of pain making his now-hard cock twitch and leak a large bead of pre-come, staining the fabric of his jock dark. "Fuck!" he yells when Stiles spanks him again.

"So fucking hot inside...like a furnace," Stiles gasps when he pulls back to refill his lungs. Every time his hands come down on Derek's cheeks, the tight ring of muscle around his tongue clenches down and grips him hard, almost like it's unwilling to let him go. He fucks his mate's hairy hole with his tongue, shoving it in and out at a rapid pace and listening to the various sounds that spill from the alpha's mouth.

Having never really thought he'd enjoy getting his ass spanked during sex, the whole thing feels like a revelation for Derek. There really does seem to be an endless slew of new kinks that his time with Stiles is bringing out in him, and he really looks forward to exploring each and every one of them thoroughly. His legs grow weak when he feels the teen slide a finger in alongside his tongue, the slender digit going deep and stroking along all of his virginal walls. He's never really gotten to appreciate the sensation before, because he's been on the brink of coming every time Stiles' fingers have gotten adventurous in the past. He definitely likes it, especially when the pad rubs across his prostate and makes him yell hoarsely into the padded surface of the bench.

Stiles keeps up his attack on Derek's ass for seemingly forever, adding a second and third finger and making sure to pay close attention to that special bundle of nerves inside. The way Derek's hips begin to falter as he pushes back into him tells Stiles that the man must be on the brink of losing it, so he redoubles his efforts to finally push his mate over the edge.

With a particularly rough drag of fingers over his prostate, Derek's orgasm crests and his hips grind down into the bench, rubbing his covered cock against the smooth surface as he spurts long and hard in the confines of his jock. Stiles fucks him through it with his fingers, the constant stimulation of his prostate prolonging the pleasure until it reaches heights he never before thought were possible. His teeth bite into the bench with such force that they actually pierce the material, his eyes clenched shut as he whines through it all.

When his orgasm finally eases off and his brain comes back to him, Derek thinks that he definitely understands now why Stiles seems so out of it after he's done pounding his ass. He winces a little bit when the teen finally withdraws his fingers, curling the tips a little so that they pull against the ring of muscle before leaving entirely.

"You should see yourself," Stiles whispers, entranced by the sight of Derek's loosened hole. If this is what he looks like to the alpha every time they make love, he gets his mate's obsession. Granted, what he's seeing probably isn't nearly as extreme as what his own hole looks like after being knotted, gaping wide as thick come leaks out and runs down his crack, but it's a very erotic sight, nevertheless. The dark hairs around Derek's hole are matted down with his spit, and he can't resist running the pad of his index finger in circles around it. He watches the way they shift under his touch and the hole itself quivers, clenching back up tight again before relaxing, opening wide like it's winking up at him. The rim looks red and used, so he leans forward again to lick it and soothe the ache he knows must have settled there with his tongue. With one last slap of his hand against Derek's muscled, hair-dusted cheek, he shuffles backward a bit and stands, pulling the alpha up with him and spinning him around.

Since Derek doesn't seem to have recovered completely from his orgasm yet, Stiles guides the man over to the thick mat in the middle of the floor and helps him lie down atop it, on his back. Kneeling next to his mate, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of Derek's jockstrap and pulls it down, marvelling at the wetness that's revealed.

The alpha's soft cock and balls are all slathered in a nice layer of warm come. The jock itself is no different, the pouch soaked in the stuff, and Stiles groans deeply to himself when he holds it up to his face and breathes in the heady scent of it.

"I'm such a fucking slut for your come, it's ridiculous... Wanna taste you all the time," Stiles blurts before taking the material in his mouth. He sucks the thick, milky fluid from the jock, his eyes boring right into Derek's as the alpha stares up at him in fascination. When the last trace of his mate's come is gone, he turns his head to the side and spits the jock from his mouth, not caring where it lands.

Still clad in his underwear and tawny wolf hoodie, Stiles moves forward and pushes Derek's legs apart so he can fit comfortably between them. Leaning down, he positions himself so that his face hovers mere inches above the alpha's crotch and blows a soft breath over the come-covered skin, smirking when the flaccid cock twitches and begins to plump up in response. After waiting until it reaches full hardness again, he uses his tongue to clean as much of the come off of his mate's erection as he can, moaning quietly to himself the entire time. He swirls each strip he licks up around his mouth and savours it, never able to get enough.

When the soft skin of Derek's cock is shining with just his saliva, Stiles moves lower, nosing into the alpha's thick pubic hair and inhaling the musky scent of sweat and come gathered there. He thinks he can detect a little piss as well, and that realisation shouldn't turn him on as much as it does.

Going even further down, Stiles mouths at Derek's heavy balls, still so full even though he's only just come. One of these days, he's going to make the man knot his hand and watch as he shoots everything all over his own hairy body. He bets himself that even with all of that come, it still won't be enough to satisfy his appetite for the stuff. The hairs on Derek's balls tickle his nose as he snuffles into the sweat-damp skin, flicking the tip of his tongue behind them to the taint and tasting the salt gathered there.

When his lungs protest the lack of air, Stiles finally draws back and moves forward to straddle Derek's thighs. Leaning down with his hands pressed to his mate's pectorals, he allows his fingers to tangle in the alpha's chest hair, looking down and admiring the way the dark hairs contrast with the pale skin of his fingers. "You shouldn't ever shower again," he suggests huskily, grinning devilishly down at Derek when he gets a series of confused blinks in response. "Should just come to me and let me lick your sweaty body clean with my tongue... Mmm, yeah, I'd love that. Now, let's test out that werewolf refractory period, shall we?" He slips off his underwear as smoothly as he can and tosses them aside to join Derek's jockstrap before moving into position. Holding his fingers up to his mate's mouth, he waits for the man to open up before pushing them past his lips, his eyes growing dark when he feels a slick tongue swirl around the digits and soak him with spit.

His fingers amply coated, Stiles pulls them out again before reaching back and shoving them without preamble into his ass, stretching himself open to take Derek's considerable girth deep inside. He's not gentle, desperate to get that full feeling he loves so much.

After he's able to fit a third finger inside of his own ass without too much pain, Stiles spits in his palm and slicks up Derek's cock before holding the tip at his entrance. The initial penetration is a little tougher than it usually is, but he pushes through it, not stopping until he's sunk down the entire length and his ass rests in the cradle of Derek's hips.

Derek groans loudly as his cock is sheathed in the tight grip of Stiles' hole. His head tips back and his eyes close, his mouth open wide as his hands move to grab the teen's sides and hold him in place. If he thought he'd get some modicum of control now that he's inside his mate, he's quickly proven wrong.

Not quite finished with being in charge yet, Stiles rips Derek's hands from his hips and pushes them up to rest above the alpha's head, holding them there with his own for a couple of seconds as he stares heatedly down into his surprised face. "You're not allowed to touch me, at all," he instructs, letting go of Derek's hands and resuming his earlier position, his legs curled up either side of the alpha's strong body. "Seriously, if you move your hands from there at any time during this, I'm gonna stop. Is that what you want?"

Stiles smirks when Derek quickly shakes his head and releases a frightened whine. "That's what I thought. So, stay there like a good mate and just concentrate on how my ass feels around you, OK?"

Wiggling in place a little bit to test his position, Stiles waits until he's satisfied to start moving, slowly using his legs to push himself up. He bites his lip as he feels the long length of Derek's cock leave his body, the quiet mewl he was trying to keep inside slipping out finally when he sinks back down. He keeps up a slow rhythm, getting payback for all of the times Derek has done the same to him.

Stiles makes the whole thing about bringing Derek pleasure, not caring at all that the alpha's cock isn't at the right angle to hit his prostate every time their skin slaps together. He simply gazes down at his mate's face as his expression becomes almost anguished, watching the way he falls apart beneath him with awe. Derek's face quickly becomes red and sweaty again, his eyes rolling back in his head when Stiles squeezes his ass down deliberately around his thick cock. "Who's my good alpha?" he coos, leaning forward a little and resting his hands either side of Derek's arms, their faces close together. "You gonna shift for me? Let me see my wolf in all his glory?" The man's tortured expression clears at these words, his eyes blinking open to stare up at him.

A salacious grin appears on Stiles' lips when he sees Derek comply with his request, his sideburns growing, his brow becoming more prominent and his eyes glowing the blood red that never fails to arouse him.

"There's my beautiful Sourwolf..." Stiles whispers, stroking a hand down the side of Derek's face and loving the way the coarse hairs tickle his palm. He closes the distance between them so their mouths meet, shoving his tongue in deep and revelling in the shocked groan he gets in return. Derek's fangs bite into his lips as they battle for dominance, but for once, he doesn't back down and let the alpha take the lead.

Stiles kisses with all he's worth, feeling a sense of exhilaration when Derek eases off after a minute and lets him take the lead. He tightens his ass again as a sort of reward before breaking away, levering himself back up on his arms and locking his elbows to stare down at his mate's shifted face. After an eternity of just looking into each other's eyes, Stiles begins to move faster, pushing himself up with his legs before shoving back down, his ass burning from the lack of proper lube. His cock doesn't care, though, still rigid and slapping down audibly against Derek's stomach every time he fills himself with the alpha's thick length. Eventually, he's not able to keep his legs working with the muscles of his thighs protesting, aching with the effort of lifting his weight time and again. To remedy this, he fits his hands over Derek's pectorals again and holds his hips up so that they hover a few inches above the alpha's body, his cock only sheathed halfway.

"Alrighty, Sourwolf, you're still not allowed to use your hands, but have at me!" he commands, almost falling forward and bashing his nose into Derek's collarbone when the alpha immediately plants his feet on the mat and snaps his hips up, fucking him brutally.

The new angle causes the swollen head of Derek's cock to shove right up against Stiles' prostate on every thrust. It's not long until he feels his orgasm approaching, his cock getting even harder as he wraps a hand around the base to stave it off. He can tell that Derek is getting close, too, by listening to harsh breaths and choked whimpers falling from his lips every time their bodies slap together.

"You gonna come for me, Der? Gonna knot me and fill me up with your come until I'm bursting with your pups?" he gasps, being bounced around wildly now on Derek's lap. He has no problem with using his mate's kinks against him to get him over the edge. In fact, to really drive the point home, he leans down until their faces are inches apart, Derek's warm breaths puffing out across his face. "I want that, too, Sourwolf. Wanna be so full of you I can't even speak. I can never get enough; I could have you inside me all day, every day and it still wouldn't even be close. If I could, I'd hang myself from your knot for the rest of my life and take all the come you've got for me, knock myself up until my stomach is so swollen with you that there's no room left, and still I'd keep on going."

Derek stares up at Stiles' face with wonder, the dirty words spewing forth from the teen's mouth stoking the fire burning in his gut and making his balls draw up close to his body, ready to burst. With one last thrust, he pumps his hips up and cries out when his knot slips past the tight ring of muscle, his cock locking itself inside the silky heat.

Still holding off his own orgasm with a hand clamped around the base of his rock-hard cock, Stiles stares at the blissful expression on Derek's face and takes in every single detail. His mate has never looked more beautiful than he does in that moment, shattering to pieces beneath him.

Stiles can feel warmth filling him up as Derek spurts rope after rope of thick come inside his ass, a low groan slipping out at the sensation of being so full of his mate. He's quickly growing addicted to it. Cautiously, he finally releases his grip around his cock, the constant pressure of the alpha's knot against his prostate threatening to tip him over the edge at any second before he's ready. He tries not to move too much to avoid jostling the length inside his ass, Derek's chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his hands as his wolf catches his breath. It's only when his mate comes back to himself, his eyes opening half-mast and staring up at him, that Stiles pushes himself up again so that his back is straight, his hand flying quickly over his achingly hard length and his hips moving in little circles back on Derek's knot. It doesn't take long for the pleasure to build and tip over, and when it does, he throws his head back with his mouth open wide as he shoots all over the alpha's chest.

After almost a minute of coming down from his high, Stiles slumps over and releases his hold on his spent cock, his breath coming back to him slowly. When he opens his eyes again, he notices that several strands of his come have landed right in Derek's left armpit.

Finding the sight too tempting to pass up, Stiles grins fiendishly down at Derek before diving in, flicking his tongue out and running it in stripes along his mate's dark, sweaty armpit hair. He doesn't swallow anything, choosing instead to gather all the come he can get on his tongue. It mixes with the salt of Derek's sweat into a delicious concoction, and his enthusiasm ramps up a couple of notches when he feels the alpha's fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his head, urging him on.

It's only after he pulls back and sees that Derek's armpit has been licked clean that Stiles ceases his assault, giving the dark hair one last lick before connecting their mouths. He pushes the mixture of come and sweat into Derek's waiting mouth, groaning quietly when he feels the man suck on his tongue greedily.

When the kiss comes to its natural end, Stiles nuzzles sideways so that his nose ends up pressed into the side of Derek's neck. "What I said before probably wouldn't turn out to be a half-bad idea, you know," Stiles says after a few minutes, breaking the contented silence that has fallen over the room. "You should totally let me take care of you when you finish a workout... Would be so damn hot..." He licks his lips a couple of times and smiles to himself when the body beneath his shakes gently with silent laughter. "Don't knock my kinks, Mr. Breedy McBreederson, you big dummy. Your armpits are hot; deal with it."

"I'm not knocking your kinks, love... While I do have to admit I was unsure about it at first, it actually doesn't feel that bad when you really get going," Derek mumbles, the lower half of his face pressed into the top of Stiles' head. "Plus, I like knowing I'm turning you on. You have my express permission to go to town whenever you want." He plans on wearing nothing but tank tops in the future to tease his wonderfully kinky mate.

"Like I needed your permission..." Stiles sighs happily, his eyes closing. He wiggles in place slightly to get more comfortable when Derek finally lowers his arms and wraps them around his body, the come still drying between their chests threatening to stick them together. He doesn't care.


	10. Payback

Derek lies on his back on the soft mat for a long time, content with having Stiles' weight pressing him down into the floor. They don't speak, relaxing into a blissful silence as they just enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking. Eventually, though, Derek starts to feel a little restless. Before his knot can go down and allow his come to slip out around his cock, he stands awkwardly and lifts Stiles in his arms, carrying the teen up to their bedroom. He retrieves their butt plug from the dresser and holds it at the ready, sliding it inside of his mate's sloppy hole to keep the teen full with him as soon as his knot deflates. His wolf rumbles approvingly in his chest at the thought of Stiles allowing him to get away with something like that, but he just takes it as another sign that he lucked out in the mate department.

They shower together afterward—Stiles limping awkwardly through to the bathroom—with the excuse that they're simply conserving water, still a little lost in their post-coital haze as they soap up each other's bodies.

Derek reluctantly stands still and allows Stiles to play with his hair, his mate styling it into bizarre styles with the frothy shampoo while he himself just glares at the wall over the teen's shoulder. He's standing out of the spray, so when the water on his skin begins to dry, making him cold, he finally grabs Stiles' hands when the teen goes to change up his hair again, resuming the cleansing of his body.

Seeing an opportunity and intending to get his own back for his perceived humiliation, when Stiles turns around to wash the shampoo from his own hair, Derek reaches down and sharply twists the plug in the teen's ass, smirking at the outraged squeal he gets in return. "What? Is there a problem?" he asks when Stiles collects himself again and smacks him hard in the centre of his chest, making his eyes as wide and innocent-looking as possible. The teen just huffs with irritation before turning off the water and stepping out onto the tiled floor, grabbing a towel from the wall and beginning to dry himself off. Thinking that his mate being mad at him just won't do, he tiptoes out of the stall as well and waits until Stiles is swathed up in the fluffy towel before making his move.

Derek presses himself up against the teen's back and wraps him up tightly in his arms, lifting him off of his feet a little bit and peppering the back of his neck with kisses.

Stiles kicks his legs wildly, laughing loudly as Derek's lips tickle his sensitive skin. "OK, I give, I give! Now put me down!" he gasps, tears beginning to spring to his eyes both from his mirth and the lack of oxygen in his lungs. When Derek finally does as he says, he rounds on the alpha and sighs. "How am I supposed to stay mad at you when you're _this_ fucking adorable?" He shakes his head.

"You're not; that's the point," Derek replies, smiling smugly before grabbing his own towel. He gets distracted from his drying when Stiles walks out of the room, watching the way the teen's ass moves with every step with rapt attention, the black plastic just visible between the pale cheeks.

Derek snaps himself out of his gawking when Stiles disappears around the doorframe, dropping his now-damp towel into the laundry hamper and moving to join his mate in the bedroom. Stiles is already dressed, doing up the last of the buttons on his pale pink shirt. He recognises it as the one he'd picked out for the teen when they were out shopping one day in New York City. It's only when he's stood in front of their dresser himself that he notices something is amiss. Glancing between his chest and the ceramic bowl where he usually keeps what little jewellery he owns, he frowns when he doesn't find his triskelion necklace anywhere. He does a quick survey of the floor just to make sure it didn't accidentally fall down there at some point, but his confusion only grows when he still finds no trace of it. He definitely didn't have it on him when he started his workout. "That's weird..." he mutters, irritation with himself growing in his gut.

Immediately detecting the annoyed tone of Derek's voice, Stiles hops up from where he'd been lounging on the bed and heads over to join the alpha. "What is?" he asks, not picking up on what's wrong right away. It's not until Derek points to the bowl that he gets a vague idea.

"The necklace you got me for my birthday isn't here," Derek explains, his frustration quickly melting away to sadness. "It must've fallen off at some point last night and I just didn't feel it..." He berates himself internally, blaming himself for losing it and knowing that there's little to no chance of him ever getting it back. "I'm so sorry. I know that must've cost you a lot..." He feels terrible, not just because it's something that Stiles obviously took a lot of time to pick out for him, but because he'd really grown to love the thing.

"Hey, it's OK," Stiles assures, reaching up and running his fingers through Derek's hair in an effort to comfort the man. He can easily read his mate's downtrodden expression and knows instantly where his mind has gone. "It's not your fault, Sourwolf... These things happen; if I had a dollar for every time I've lost something someone has given me, I'd probably have about as much money as you do by now. It shouldn't be too difficult to get a replacement anyway, so don't worry about it." When he sees that Derek looks marginally better than he did before, he pushes up on his tiptoes and kisses the man chastely on the forehead before stepping away again. "OK, how about we forget this for now and just go downstairs to enjoy the lovely breakfast I made for us before I accosted you in the basement?" With that, he leaves the room and goes down the stairs, walking straight into the kitchen to start reheating the food still on the stove.

When Derek joins him downstairs, Stiles dishes up the oatmeal he's made into two bowls and sets them in their usual places around the kitchen island. "So...yesterday was fun," he comments offhandedly after he consumes his first spoonful. "I didn't know you had those moves in you."

Smirking around his own spoon, Derek snorts and thinks back to the previous evening as well, recalling how good it had felt to let go of all his worries and just enjoy himself for once. He didn't really have much time to mess around like that in his late teens and early twenties, as bogged down by guilt as he was back then, so getting to do it now, while a little strange, feels good. Even though he prefers to act as if he's more mature than his pack—since he's their alpha, he thinks he should be—there's still the odd time when he gets caught up in their silliness and finds himself acting like a reckless teenager again.

"I told you I've been to clubs before, Stiles..." Derek mumbles eventually, scraping the bottom of his bowl before checking the saucepan to see if there's more. He goes for seconds. "What, did you expect me to just stand at the sidelines and glare at everybody the whole night?"

"Basically, yes," Stiles replies simply, not at all surprised when Derek ends up polishing off all the leftover oatmeal without even checking to see whether he wanted more himself. Luckily, he didn't. "Can you really blame me, though? With how grumpy you usually get whenever the pack becomes a little...rambunctious, it wasn't exactly like my expectations were that far out of left field. I'm glad I was wrong, though; it was nice seeing you having fun with everyone for once instead of just being the stoic alpha, watching from afar." He puts the dirty dishes and cutlery straight into the dishwasher right as his phone beeps in his pocket. Pulling it out, he groans when he sees the message that flashes up on the screen, a reminder from Deaton not to forget their next training session that evening. He was hoping the man would be the one to let it slip his mind.

Conceding Stiles' point, Derek stands and stretches his arms above his head, turning his torso from side to side so that his spine cracks audibly. He only looks a little ashamed when Stiles glances at him in disgust. "What's with the face?" he asks when he notices the way the teen returns to glaring down at his phone.

"It's just from Deaton, telling me not to forget that we're supposed to meet up again later..." Stiles sighs as he locks his phone and leaves it on the kitchen island. He's thankful to the man for allowing the session to be pushed back a day so that he could celebrate his birthday in peace, don't get him wrong. He just wishes Deaton didn't sound so condescending about everything.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Derek comforts, easily able to read Stiles' expression. When he gets up from his stool and heads into the hallway, he pauses when he notices that he can smell a faint trace of their previous activities coming from the basement. Frowning, he walks down a couple steps and finds that the scent gets stronger as he goes. He must not have noticed how overpowering it was earlier because he'd gotten used to it, but because he's now fresh from the shower, he can smell that it permeates the air completely down in the gym. He guesses the betas are going to have an interesting time if any of them come around the house that day to make use of the equipment. He hears footsteps behind him and turns to find that Stiles has followed him, the teen's noise raised in the air before he realises what the smell he can detect is.

His cheeks turning red almost instantly, Stiles clears his throat awkwardly and scratches at the back of his head. "Hmm, maybe we should try and clean up a little bit in here, huh?" he asks quietly, his gaze landing on the mat they made love on about an hour ago. Patches of sweat and come can still be seen drying on its blue surface.

Derek opens all of the small windows set into the tops of the walls to let some fresh air in while Stiles retrieves cleaning supplies from the cupboard under the sink in the kitchen. "This place should probably get cleaned more often anyway," he points out when the teen reenters the room.

"True, but I don't really have the time. I would make the betas do it after they're done using all of the equipment, but we both know they'd do a crap job of it..." Stiles replies, kneeling down next to the mat and spraying it with the bottle of cleaner in his hand. He scrubs at the sweat and come stains with a damp towel until they disappear. After spraying some air freshener around the room and picking up his and Derek's old clothes from where they'd been tossed carelessly on the floor, he joins Derek by the bottom of the stairs and follows the alpha back up to the ground floor. He dangles the jock strap over his wolf's face when the man flops down lengthways along the sofa, lying on his back with his hands crossed over his stomach. "Seriously, how long have you had this? Because if you've had it for a while, I'm gonna punch you for keeping it from me for so long."

Waving the jock away with a hand, Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles' words. "I've had it for a while, yes, but I wasn't keeping it from you; I thought you knew about it," he excuses, closing his eyes and settling in for a nice nap. His plan is ruined when Stiles drops the sweat- and come-soiled jock right on his face.

* * *

When the clock strikes eight that evening, Stiles groans from where he's sitting on the living room sofa and throws himself sideways, landing with a soft thump in Derek's lap. "Kill me now..." he whines into the fabric of the alpha's jeans, breathing out a long sigh. He pushes automatically into Derek's hand when he feels it come rest on top of his head, snuffling closer and growing even more reluctant to move. The two of them had been binge-watching some more _Friends_ at his insistence, a satisfied smirk staying on his face nearly the whole time when he'd overheard Derek let out the odd chuckle at the shenanigans the six main characters got up to on the television screen.

Feeling Derek shift, no doubt in preparation to get ready to leave, Stiles grudgingly rolls sideways off of his wolf's lap, landing in a clumsy heap in the small space between the sofa and coffee table. When he doesn't make to get up on his own, Derek wedges his hands under his arms and drags him to his feet instead. He ignores the alpha's quiet mumble of how much of a pain in the ass he is sometimes.

The sudden change in altitude makes Stiles' head spin a little, so he leans into his mate while he waits for his equilibrium to return. "OK, let's get this over with..." he grimaces, shaking off the last remnants of tiredness before following Derek to the front door to put on his shoes.

As much as he still wants to continue working under Deaton's tutelage, Stiles is anxious to get past this current stage of 'vision training'—a name he came up with himself—and move on to something different. He longs for the days, which will hopefully be in the near future, when the vet begins teaching him how to cast spells and work his magic in different, more exciting ways. Seeing all the potential futures is an interesting concept, but when put into practice, he doesn't think it's actually that good of an experience. He drives this time instead of Derek, happy to get behind the wheel of his new car again. It's still as thrilling as it had been the first time, and the fact that it's late and not many other vehicles are out on the roads allows him to feel comfortable pushing his foot down a little harder on the pedal, racing along the streets to the clinic. He stays just under the speed limit, though, not wanting to be pulled over by one of his dad's old deputies.

The light above the clinic's back door shines brightly as Stiles pulls his Camaro to a stop in one of the many empty parking spaces. Glancing around when he gets out, he frowns when he notices the absence of any other cars in the lot, not even Deaton's.

It would be unlike the veterinarian to be late, though if he is, Stiles is going to call the man out on being hypocritical after the lecture he was given when he and Derek weren't on time for his first session out by the Nemeton. Checking the time on his phone, he sees that they still have a few minutes to wait until that day's session is actually supposed to start, so he leans against his car to do just that.

"I wonder what's taking him so long..." Derek mumbles twenty minutes later, pacing back and forth in frustration. He doesn't like having his time wasted. When he glances at Stiles, he sees that the teen is playing some stupid game on his phone out of boredom, giving him an idea. He walks up to Stiles and snatches the device right out of his hands, ignoring his mate's squawk of outrage and tapping through to the contacts to find Deaton's number. He dials when he sees the older man's name, holding the phone up to his ear and listening to it ring several times before the voicemail kicks in. After second and third tries yield the same results, he curses quietly to himself before finally allowing Stiles to take his phone back. He's about to voice his concerns that maybe they're not being stood up and that something is actually wrong when he hears tyres squealing a short distance away. A second car pulls up a couple of spaces across from them before someone gets out.

Holly looks like she's just been through a tornado or something. Her hair is a total mess and her breathing his heavy like she just ran a marathon. She looks up when she hears hurried footsteps approaching, holding a hand up to Derek and Stiles before they can speak so that she has a chance to catch her breath again.

"What the hell happened to you? Where's Deaton?" Stiles asks in a rush, helping the woman stand straight again when she looks ready. He blinks back at her when she looks at him in confusion, her eyebrows meeting in the centre of her forehead and the corners of her mouth pulling down.

"You mean he's not here?" Holly replies, looking around the area as if it will give her answers. She was wondering why the two young men were meandering about outside of the building instead of already being inside. "Hmm, that's odd..." Pulling out a key from her pocket, she heads over to the clinic's back door and unlocks it before stepping through, beckoning Derek and Stiles inside after her. Once the door is closed again, she searches through all of the rooms, expecting Deaton to just suddenly appear. Having known the man for years, she's a little baffled that he wouldn't turn up for something as important as this.

Taking a seat in the examination room like usual, Derek listens to the sounds of Holly bustling about the place, grunting a little bit when Stiles sits on his lap instead of getting his own stool. He wraps an arm around the teen's waist to hold him in place when he keeps fidgeting. When the woman reappears, his earlier concern increases when he sees that she looks as confused as he feels.

"You still haven't told us what happened to you; no offence, but you look like a complete mess," Stiles says carefully, wincing when Holly glares at him before fixing her hair as best as she can in the reflection of one of the glass cabinets that line the walls. While he waits for an answer, Stiles glances around the room and notes with interest that everything looks neat and tidy. No supplies are laid out in preparation for whatever Deaton had planned for him; even the remaining stools are in a straight line next to the examination table. It's clear that no struggle or anything took place there. Wherever Deaton is, it's unlikely they'll be able to find him if something happened to him unless he decides to answer his phone. He starts to get honestly worried, thinking that it would be just typical for life to throw something new at him when things were just starting to settle down and get good again. Plus, without Deaton, there's not really much he could do to fight it—if there even is an 'it'—short of throwing fire.

Her hair now looking relatively neat, Holly stops her fussing and turns back to Derek and Stiles, a small smile appearing on her face when she takes in the way they're sitting. "To answer your question," she begins, clearing her throat, "nothing happened to me. I simply overslept."

 _Well, that's underwhelming_ , Stiles thinks, a little disappointed that the reason for Holly's lateness wasn't more exciting. "So, what are we going to do now?" he asks the woman, wondering whether the session will even go on without Deaton's presence. Even though he still feels a small amount of distrust for the man, he'd prefer it if he were there to take the lead like normal.

"I don't know what it is Deaton was planning on teaching you today, Stiles, so I think it would be best if we stuck to something simple that you'll need to do eventually anyway," Holly begins, running her eyes speculatively across the line of cabinets on the wall. She opens one seemingly at random and smiles proudly to herself as she pulls out several old, very thick books. The pages are fragile when she opens them one by one across the examination table, looking like they'll disintegrate into dust if someone so much as blows gently on them. She gestures for Stiles and Derek to shift closer so they can see what she's doing. "OK...you're going to go over some of the spells in these grimoires and familiarise yourself with them. Some of them are good—and you'll practise performing them at a later time—while the others are dark. You'll only be learning those ones so you can defend yourself should you ever come across them."

Stiles groans internally, getting off of Derek's lap slowly and finally getting his own stool. He pushes it right up against the table and leans his head on his hand as he begins to read through the first book Holly shoves under his nose. It's slow going, with his mate perusing the other tomes as he wades through the boring and overwritten text already in front of him.

The book starts out light. The first half of it focuses on healing magic, something that perks up Stiles' interest a great deal. He thinks he could put a lot of the spells written there to good use, especially after a battle. It varies, from healing human wounds completely to just speeding up the healing rate of lycanthropes and other supernatural creatures. He's confused about why someone would want to do that at first before coming to the conclusion that there's probably good and bad in every supernatural race, just like with humans. After that, though, it descends into a well of blackness, almost as if the person who wrote it was slowly being corrupted. There's a whole section on body modification, which is full of enough crude sketches to fuel his nightmares for years to come.

The final few pages are blank, and Stiles thinks he sees a small blood stain on the inside of the back cover before he closes it again in disgust. "Well, that was an experience..." he mutters, pushing the book away from himself and unwillingly moving onto the next when Holly hands it to him.

All in all, Stiles spends just under two hours going through as much of the material as he can. The current tome isn't so much a book of spells as it is a diary, one written by a young girl as she grew up in an old coven somewhere in Poland. He doesn't recognise the name of the woman who wrote it or the town she lived in, but he finds it reasonably interesting nevertheless. It ends just as she reaches her teenage years, and he assumes she would've continued to write inside a second book afterward.

The writing on the last couple of pages is smudged, like the writer was crying, tears falling from their eyes and dropping down onto the paper with every word.

Stiles yawns loudly when Derek suggests they call it a day for now, with Holly thankfully agreeing. They bid goodbye to the woman before leaving the clinic. "Are you hungry?" he asks Derek as he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the closest diner when the alpha hums his assent. He's glad the place stays open late, the lack of other customers turning out to be a welcome change. Only one other table is occupied when they take their seats. Stiles looks over his menu inattentively, not really reading any of the words. In the end, when the gum-chewing waitress returns to take their order, he lets Derek go first and just tells her that he'll have the same afterward. They wait in comfortable silence until their food arrives. "So...Cora and Charlie, huh? I gotta say, I didn't see that one coming at all; I didn't even know Cora was interested in girls that way."

Grunting in acknowledgement, Derek stares down at his plate and tries not to think about it. He's happy for his sister, he thinks, but he can't help feeling a little unsure about the whole thing at the same time. "I didn't know that either, but we don't really talk much anymore, so..." he replies quietly, taking another bite of his bacon cheeseburger.

"This totally opens the floor for some good-natured ribbing, you know," Stiles chirps happily, already plotting all of the ways he can embarrass the youngest Hale. He'll have to make sure not to go too far, though; he wouldn't put it past Cora to get sick of it quickly and do something about it, probably involving violence. He wonders if anyone else in the pack was aware that the two girls were interested in each other. Lydia is the most likely candidate, since she always goes out of her way to meddle in the rest of the pack's lives, though he doesn't think she and Cora hang out at all apart from in group settings. Cora is still something of an outsider in the pack, preferring to remain on the outskirts of all the goings on. He used to feel a little sorry for her until he realised that's just how she likes it.

Derek contemplates the ramifications of a potential relationship blossoming between his sister and Charlie. If things do progress the way he and Stiles are assuming they will, then there'll be the whole issue of Cora being a werewolf and part of the pack, a secret he's unwilling to divulge except in rare cases. Danny was a special exception, having received glowing praise from pretty much everyone already in the pack.

Deciding to take on that problem if and when it arises instead of worrying now, Derek polishes off his burger and gulps down his water before waiting for Stiles to do the same. It doesn't take the teen long, and soon enough, he's paying the bill and walking his mate out of the diner, intent on crawling into bed as soon as he gets home.

* * *

_\- Monday, August 27th, 2012 -_

At school the next day, Stiles observes silently as Cora and Charlie both dance around each other with a smile on his lips. He thinks it's pretty adorable, though he'll never tell Cora that for fear of being punched in the face. Having decided to wait until lunch to broach the subject, when the hour comes and the pack gathers around their usual table in the corner of the cafeteria, he takes his seat next to Isaac and notes with amusement that, while the two girls don't actually sit together, they do pass the occasional heated glance back and forth. He shares his own knowing smirk with Lydia, the redhead sitting directly opposite him with Jackson glued to her side while pretending not to be. He doesn't participate in any of the conversations, choosing instead to just sit and watch.

Five minutes before lunch is due to end, Cora gets up from the table and leaves early, saying that she has to run to her locker and get a book she forgot before the next period. Since they have the same class, Stiles follows her, getting more and more amused the more annoyed Cora appears to get by his continued silence.

After getting the book she needed, Cora slams her locker closed before rounding on Stiles, a deep scowl on her face and her eyes blazing in anger. She's never looked more like Derek's sister. "Would you just fucking spit it out already?!" she exclaims, her arms flying out from her sides.

Having gotten the reaction he was hoping for, Stiles chuckles and follows Cora when she storms off again, apparently trying in vain to get away from him. He walks with his hands clasped behind his back, almost skipping along because of the glee he feels. He's glad that the tables have turned now, giving him a chance to pick on Cora a bit instead of the girl giving him and Derek shit all the time for being 'sickening and gross', as she usually puts it. There have been several times in the past where she's told them to get a room, to which he's retaliated that they already have one that they make frequent use of. The expression of horror that appears on Cora's face each time never fails to make him crack up. It took her quite a while to learn her lesson. "So...what's going on between you and Charlie, hmm?" he asks as casually as he can, though his voice still carries a large amount of rapt interest, giving him away.

"That's none of your God damn business!" Cora hisses between her clenched teeth, annoyed that there's not really anything she can do to rid herself of Stiles while they're at school, at least not with her preferred methods. When they walk into the classroom—the first ones to arrive—she throws herself into a seat at the back, rolling her eyes when the boy predictably takes the one next to her.

"Come on now! We're family; you're practically my sister in law, so if you can't talk with me, who can you talk with?" Stiles points out, batting his eyelashes when Cora just glares in his direction, unimpressed. "Seriously, though, I want to know what's going on with you. Pretty please?"

Shaking her head and sighing, Cora opens her book and flips through the pages angrily. "I don't know what my brother sees in you... He must have some serious brain damage going on or something; that's the only reasonable explanation I can think of to explain his lapse in judgement," she mutters, keeping her voice down when she notices that other students have begun filtering into the classroom. She doesn't actually mean her words—she's actually incredibly pleased that Derek has settled down with someone who complements him so well, especially after how disastrously all of his past relationships have ended. It's nice to see her brother brought out of his brooding shell by Stiles' loud antics; she just wishes Stiles wasn't so annoying to everyone else most of the time.

"Whatever you say, puppy," Stiles replies, not taking offence at Cora's words at all. He knows she's just deflecting. "It certainly looked like something mighty interesting was happening Saturday night, you two getting all hot and heavy. I've gotta say, that was a very different look on you."

"Do you ever shut up?" Cora moans, looking up at the ceiling and asking God why he saddled her with the irritating human. She longs for the last couple of minutes of lunch to pass already so the teacher will walk in and put an end to the current conversation.

Smirking, Stiles leans against the desk on his elbows and looks down at Cora. "You should know by now that almost nothing can make me shut up," he snickers, his body shaking with silent laughter when Cora groans loudly and slams her head down on the desk in frustration. "Whatever. I won't bother you about it again if you don't want me to, but just be careful, OK? As much as I don't think she'd be a problem, I know Derek still isn't too sure of Charlie, so try not to let anything slip for now." With that, he looks away from the back of Cora's head and stares instead out of the window. The classroom faces the lacrosse field, and he can see several members of the team out there practising. They must have a free period, he muses, feeling a small pang of longing in his chest. While he still sticks by his decision to quit the sport for good, he does miss it a little bit every now and then.

Cora thanks the heavens when the bell rings and their teacher finally arrives. The class passes smoothly after that, Stiles sticking to his promise and keeping quiet about what he'd witnessed at Jungle. She's quick to leave the room when the hour ends, regardless, grateful that she doesn't share her next class with the boy.

Just as Stiles leaves the room as well, having stayed behind for a minute to gather his things and let the rest of the students filter out ahead of him, he's dragged off down the hallway in the opposite direction of where he actually needs to go. He's about to flail and try to get free when he realises that his abductor is just Lydia. "Umm...what are you doing?" he asks confusedly, allowing himself to be shepherded into a free classroom, where he finds Erica, Isaac and, surprisingly, Jackson waiting for them.

Closing the door behind herself so that no one can overhear them, Lydia leans against the teacher's desk at the front of the room and faces the other four. "Right, as you all know, Ms. Adler's hatred of Stiles is getting out of control," she begins, crossing her arms and giving Jackson a pointed look when the beta scoffs and makes to leave. She doesn't let up until he sits back down on one of the desks in the front row. "It's reached the point now where there's a serious chance he could fail Chemistry, and I feel this is unacceptable. Both Danny and Isaac have told me that he's done absolutely nothing to deserve it." She notices Stiles glaring at her, no doubt suspecting that she had her doubts before she was told otherwise. She hastens to assure him that he's wrong. "I didn't think you would've anyway, Stiles."

"Mmm, I can't have my Batman being picked on!" Erica interjects, gripping Stiles in a headlock and rubbing her knuckles across his head. She lets the boy go again when he stamps down hard on her foot, licking his face in retaliation and laughing at the way he squawks indignantly.

"Now, I've already filled everyone else in on the plan, Stiles, but I wanted to check with you first to see if you wanted to get in on it, too," Lydia informs, pulling out her phone and checking something on the screen. "Danny's already in position, so we just have to give him the word and it'll all kick off."

Frowning, Stiles steps cautiously away from Erica to avoid getting attacked by the girl again, choosing instead to hover close to Isaac. He ignores the way Jackson moves away from him as well, rolling his eyes at the irascible beta. "Alright, tell me this plan of yours," he accepts, quickly getting caught up in Lydia's infectious enthusiasm when she begins explaining. The rest of the room seems to be affected by it, too, even Jackson, who stops acting like he doesn't want to be there and actually joins in on the fun. It doesn't surprise Stiles when Lydia pulls a file out of nowhere and flips it open on the desk, shuffling the papers held within and spreading them out on the wooden surface before gesturing for everybody to come closer. All of the papers have detailed illustrations on them, complete with maps and lengthly paragraphs of text. It's a little excessive, Stiles thinks, but he refrains from actually commenting on it.

"Ever since you told me about what she did to you, Stiles, I've been doing some recon, watching her and learning her schedule and patterns," Lydia confesses, running her fingers down the papers and re-familiarising herself with everything.

This doesn't surprise Stiles in the slightest, having long since accepted and grown to admire how devious and underhanded Lydia can become when she commits fully to something. He likes to think he had something to do with bringing out that side of her, but in reality, he knows it was probably just her survival instincts kicking in when their lives were in danger.

"The plan is twofold. First, Danny and Jackson will mess with the engine of her car, making it so that it gives out when she's halfway to her house at the end of the day," Lydia continues, pride in her voice. "She lives on the outskirts of town, so there shouldn't be anyone else around to help her. Isaac and Erica will be waiting for her, and when she gets out of her car to see what's wrong with it, they'll shift into their beta forms and scare her. They'll be wearing disguises, so there's no chance of them being recognised." She points to the two small bags that sit on the edge of the desk. "The second part of the plan is where you come in, Stiles, if you want to. Tonight, when everyone's gone, we sneak back into her classroom and trash the place."

"I was considering leaving her a nice little message on the blackboard in something permanent," Erica adds, smirking. "Something profanity-filled." She looks forward to terrorising Ms. Adler, chasing her through the preserve and making her hopefully piss herself. It's no secret that pretty much everyone in the school despises the woman as well—even the rest of the staff—so no one will feel sympathetic.

Stiles listens to all of this with a frown on his face. As much as he detests the teacher, he can't help but think Lydia's plan sounds like it's going a little too far. "Don't you think this might be a little much?" he asks, biting his lip. "I mean, what if she finds out it was us? We'd be screwed!"

"Relax, Stiles..." Isaac assures, patting the human boy on the shoulder a couple of times before leaving his hand to rest there, squeezing gently. "She deserves to have the shit scared out of her. No one would disagree with that, and since everybody in this school hates her, it would be impossible for her to figure out who was behind all of this. Besides, we're not _actually_ going to damage her car, if that's what you're worried about; it'll still work fine. Jackson and Danny are just going to do a little bit on tinkering, and when this is all over, they'll put everything back the way they found it, OK?" He smiles when he sees that his words are slowly bringing Stiles around. The cogs in the other boy's head can practically be seen turning as he thinks.

"Well...if you're sure no actual damage will be done, it does sound pretty funny..." he admits, flicking his tongue out over his bottom lip to soothe the ache his teeth have left there. He rolls his eyes when Erica cheers at his agreement, the blonde sharing a fist bump with Isaac.

Taking that as the final word, Lydia pulls out her phone and gives Danny the all-clear, shooing Jackson out of the room so he can go and help his friend by being his lookout. The text sent, she begins tidying up all of her things again, handing the bags over to Erica and Isaac before tucking the file folder under her arm.

"I'm gonna record the whole thing as well," Isaac chirps up as they ready themselves to leave as well. "That part was Scott's idea; Allison didn't want him taking part in scaring Ms. Adler, but he didn't want to miss out because of that. I can send you a copy of the video as well if you want." When Stiles nods his assent, he grins and opens the door, heading out into the empty hallway with the others following behind. They'll all get a strike for being late to their lessons, but he doesn't care. Their little planning session was worth it, in his eyes, and since it's the first offence of the year and the rest of the teachers in the school are all relatively nice, it's unlikely to end with any of them getting detention. They'll all probably just receive a warning.

* * *

Derek is sat at his desk in the study, working on some rough sketches for his new job. He'd gotten the call earlier that morning, and he'd felt a deep sense of pride when the woman on the other end of the line had congratulated him on his fine work and told him that he'd been hired.

His stomach rumbles after a full hour of drawing lines and measuring distance on the white paper, and when Derek looks up at the clock, his eyes widen in surprise when he realises that it's already mid-afternoon. Time really does fly when you're having fun, he muses, so he sets down his pencil and stands from his chair, taking a few seconds to stretch his legs before leaving the room. When he gets down into the kitchen, a brief look through the fridge and cupboards reveals nothing that he can just eat immediately. He sighs, not really feeling like cooking anything, and it's then that a thought hits him—he needs to get some new supplies anyway so he can make his work as accurate as possible, so he might as well go out and get it all now along with his late lunch, killing two birds with one stone.

Decision made, he shuts the fridge and grabs his car keys from the bowl by the door before shrugging on his leather jacket and leaving the house. He sees that the town is relatively busy when he drives through it, and he can't help but feel a little bit of annoyance at the fact even though he knew that would be the case.

The art supply store is on the main street. It's quite large by Beacon Hills' standards, almost double the size of the shops either side of it. It attracts a lot of business, and Derek has to wait for a couple of people to leave the building—each of their arms are weighed down with a multitude of full bags—before he can walk through the automatic sliding doors himself.

The smell of paint assaults Derek's nose as he wanders the aisles. It doesn't take him long to find everything he needs, and just ten minutes later, he's getting into the queue to pay. He gets strange looks from the other patrons, and while he knows it must look strange to see someone like him in an art supply store, he wishes they would stop staring. Perhaps wearing his jacket wasn't the best decision without Stiles there to make him look less intimidating. He guesses the only good thing about it is that he doesn't have to put up with any inane chitchat, the employee behind the till ringing up his purchases quickly and efficiently. The only words exchanged are when she asks if he found everything he needs and when she tells him to have a nice day as he collects his bags. He shakes his head as he exits the building, having always hated when people say that without meaning it at all.

There's a Subway just down the street, so Derek dumps the bags in the backseat of his car before heading there, deciding that, since he's eaten pretty badly for the past couple of days, he should really go for something a little healthier. For once, he chooses to sit in the shop while he eats.

When he takes his last bite and tosses his balled-up wrapper into the bin, Derek looks up and finds a familiar face standing in front of him. Deputy Parrish offers him a kind smile, and he plasters on a relatively congenial one on his own face as the other man begins walking over to him. When Parrish holds out his hand, he reluctantly takes it and gives it a small shake before releasing it.

"Derek! I haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?" Parrish asks happily, apparently oblivious to Derek's discomfort. He thinks the last time he and the bearded man were actually face-to-face was right after Stiles' dad's death, when he'd brought the teen in to give his statement just prior to the funeral. The late sheriff is still missed deeply by all of the staff down at the station, the space he left behind not easily filled. It took them forever to decide who should be John's replacement, since there had never been any discussion about it before it became a necessity. He's incredibly curious about how Stiles is doing as well, having been too busy at work to check in with his pseudo little brother. He hopes that Derek and Melissa have been taking good care of him.

"Good," Derek replies succinctly, trying hard to stop his eyebrows from meeting in the middle. If it were up to him, he wouldn't bother putting on a friendly face, just ending the conversation already and walking away, but he knows Stiles would be mad at him if he found out about any rudeness. Being mated to the teen is such a chore sometimes, he muses halfheartedly.

Parrish's perky demeanour cracks a little bit when he finally picks up on how much Derek doesn't want to be there talking to him. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, man," he says, toning down his enthusiasm. "Tell Stiles to stop by the station sometime, yeah? We all miss that little dude..."

After a quick nod, Derek breathes out a sigh of relief when Parrish bids a quick farewell and continues on his way, leaving him alone again. He's more than ready to get back to the peaceful solitude of his house, but as he nears his car again, he catches a whiff of a scent he faintly recognises. It takes him a couple of seconds to place it, but when he does, he looks up and down the street curiously, trying to pinpoint where it's emanating from. It's the same scent he came across once before, just over two weeks ago when he and Stiles were returning home from the teen's training session with Deaton. The fact that he's found it again out in the middle of town negates his theory of it belonging to some animal that got scared and ran away when he went to investigate between the trees.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Derek continues walking even when he reaches his car, intent on seeing where the scent leads. A couple of streets over, he gets his answer. Turning a corner, he comes to a stop when he gets a look at who stands a few feet away from him.

Elizabeth appears unaware of Derek's presence and, to keep it that way, he steps off to the side and hides in a small alcove built into one of the buildings that line the pavement. He peeks around the red bricks to keep an eye on the suspicious woman, a frown appearing on his face when he finds that she's nowhere to be found.

"What are you doing?"

The voice comes unexpectedly from behind, startling Derek and making him jump a couple of feet into the air like a cat. Shaking the thought from his brain, he turns slowly and finds that Elizabeth is now stood there. He's confused about how she could possibly have slipped past him and gotten to this new position, the most logical explanation being that there must be something more to this woman than what meets the eye. He's determined to find out, meeting Elizabeth's eyes impassively and projecting an air of confidence. "What am I doing? I think a better question would be, 'Why did I smell your scent outside my house a few weeks ago?'," he replies coolly, crossing his arms. His bafflement only increases when the woman looks down at her feet, her cheeks turning red.

"Ah...I was hoping you wouldn't notice that..." she mumbles, flicking her hair back over her shoulder with her hand. Her long dress flows around her feet in the gentle breeze. "Perhaps would could find a more...private place for this discussion?"

Eyeing Elizabeth distrustfully, Derek nevertheless accepts and leads the way back to his car, noting with interest that the two bags the woman clutches in her hand are unmarked, more strange scents coming from within. Once they're both ensconced in the familiar interior of the Camaro, he turns to her and raises an eyebrow, a clear indication for her to continue.

"First of all, I'd like to preface this whole thing by assuring you that I mean neither you nor anyone else any harm," Elizabeth says calmly, shuffling the bags around on her lap until they sit there more comfortably. "I completely understand if you're distrustful of me and everything I'm telling you now, but I swear it's the truth. I'm a witch, as was my mother before me and so on. I moved Charlie and I out here to get a fresh start after my husband went missing. I know all about the supernatural, the pack, and that you're the alpha, and the reason I was skulking around your house before was because I wanted to check up on who Charlie was hanging around with. I'm very protective of her since it's just the two of us left, and I don't want her getting involved in anything dangerous. She doesn't know about any of this, and that's how I want things to stay for the time being."

Even though Elizabeth's heart doesn't falter once when she's speaking, Derek is still hesitant to believe her. She wouldn't be the first person he's come across who could manipulate something like that, his late uncle Peter being the prime example.

"Why didn't you just come straight to me instead of hiding?" Derek asks, the fact that Elizabeth continues to clutch the bags in her lap protectively not escaping his notice. "You have to have realised that by doing things like you have, you've just incriminated yourself and made it very difficult for me to believe a single word that just came out of your mouth."

Nodding sadly, Elizabeth looks away from Derek to stare out of the windshield. "I get that now, yes," she mutters, taking a deep breath, "but you have to understand that I was scared. I move us to a new place to get away from something I don't really feel like getting into right now, only to find that there's a pack of werewolves living here. I was shocked and wasn't really thinking clearly, so I did some investigating, which obviously wasn't as sneaky as I thought... I'll have to be more careful of that in the future. Anyway, that scent you picked up? It was probably from the spell I used to determine your mate's true motives in befriending my daughter. When I realised that Stiles meant no harm and was just being nice, I backed off and left without a word."

"I don't like the idea of you or anybody else coming to my house uninvited and doing strange magic," Derek snarls, just barely suppressing the growl that wants to build in his throat. He doesn't approve of the woman's actions at all, all of the things that could have gone wrong flying through his mind.

Even so, since he can't detect a single trace of a lie, Derek decides to trust Elizabeth on a probationary basis. "Because Stiles and my sister have already grown pretty close to Charlie, I'm willing to see how things go from here, but I want to make myself clear; the second I suspect you're lying to me, I won't hesitate to do anything I have to in order to protect my pack."

"That's certainly understandable," Elizabeth accepts, holding out a hand for Derek to shake. "As long as nothing happens to Charlie while she's with any one of your pack, I promise not to interfere in anything unless she asks me to. I really am only here to get a fresh start, and I'm not even doing much magic anymore. All of this stuff is just reserves in case I need it, ingredients for protection spells and whatnot. In fact, as I understand it, your mate is training in order to become an emissary, is he not?" She waits until Derek nods his hesitant assent before elaborating. "Well, as a gesture of good faith, I do have some friends who still practice regularly, and I'm sure I can use those connections to get Stiles ingredients of his own should he ever need them."

Contemplating the idea, Derek accepts the offer tentatively. "I'll have to ask Stiles first, but that sounds like it might be fine," he says, not knowing what to make of the pleased expression that appears on Elizabeth's face. "But I'm sure he'll want to meet with you first to make sure everything's on the up and up."

"Of course," Elizabeth agrees, gathering the handles of the bags in her lap in one hand as she readies herself to leave the car. "He can stop by the house sometime; I'm usually home all evening. I'm happy things are working out, Derek. Good day to you." With that, she opens the door and gets out.

Staring after the woman for a minute, Derek waits until she disappears around the corner at the end of he street before shaking his head and starting the car. Now that he has all of the supplies he needs to do his job properly again, he makes to go back home and finish the current project on which the company have him working. It's a difficult one, but he appreciates the challenge. He keeps an eye out for Elizabeth when he drives over to the next street and frowns when he doesn't see any sign of her, even though there aren't actually that many pedestrians around in that moment. He wonders how Stiles will take the news that his new friend's mother is aware of their secret and has been the whole time, especially when he doesn't know what make of it himself yet.

* * *

When the school day comes to an end, Stiles meets Lydia by her locker in order to begin preparing for their plans later that evening. He catches sight of Erica and Isaac leaving the building at the other end of the corridor, both of them carrying the bags containing their disguises, and nods at them when they wave before disappearing through the double doors.

Lydia shows up a few minutes later, Scott, Allison and Kira in tow. "What are you guys doing here?" Stiles asks the latter three, baffled by their presence. He catches sight of Scott's conspiratorial grin before Lydia links their arms together and leads him outside with the rest of the student body.

"We're gonna help you guys trash Ms. Adler's classroom!" Scott announces proudly, frowning in confusion when Allison immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to silence him. He catches his mistake when he notices a couple of other students staring over in their direction with raised eyebrows, obviously having heard his proclamation. "Oops..." He shuts himself up during the rest of the walk through the parking lot, practically holding his breath until he slides into the back seat of Stiles' Camaro with his girlfriends on either side of him. Being between the two of them is a pretty nice place to be, if he says so himself, and he's unable to wipe the smug smile off of his face when Stiles starts the car and drives away from the school at Lydia's instruction.

Stiles thinks that he should have known his best friend would probably want to participate in whatever it is Lydia has planned to get back at their most hated teacher. While the beta isn't really on the receiving end of any of the woman's criticisms, he knows the other boy gets angry on his behalf every time. He's lucky to have a friend like Scott.

The fact that Allison and Kira also seem keen to join in on the plan surprises Stiles, though, having always thought of the two girls as rather straight-laced, supernatural activities notwithstanding. Still, he's happy enough to have them along for the adventure.

Lydia tells Stiles to drive to her house in order to collect everything she's gotten ready in advance. As soon as the boy informed her of his unfair treatment at Ms. Adler's hands, she was outraged. Normally, she wouldn't even think of doing something like this, but the woman makes a strong case for an exception, one she gladly took. Not surprisingly, Erica helped during the planning phase, the two of them bowing their heads together to conspire against the ornery teacher. An hour with her laptop and her mother's credit card had resulted in a rather sizeable shipment being delivered to her house a couple of days later, and she'd felt a sense of adrenaline at the mere thought of using it all as she went through it to make sure everything was there.

A few short minutes later, Lydia is getting back in the car with another bag clutched in her hand. "Alright, let's head to yours and wait there until the time is right," she suggests, looking pointedly at Stiles until he complies and drives them back to his and Derek's house.

For his part, Stiles worries briefly about what his mate will think of the whole plan. He hopes the alpha won't try to stop them from carrying it out, since he's actually started to look forward to it. If Derek does show some reservations, then perhaps a thorough explanation of all the things Ms. Adler has done to him over the past year or so will convince him. It's a long list.

It's when the five of them are gathered around the living room table that Stiles' phone goes off. Pulling it out, a smile instantly appears on his face when he sees that it's a text from Isaac, containing an attachment. Quickly pulling the video up on the screen, he ushers the other four closer so that they can witness Erica and Isaac terrorising the teacher through the preserve as well. It starts out with a shot of the two betas smiling devilishly at the camera before it turns to look through the trees, a car driving past on the road a short distance away. The vehicle soon sputters to a stop, with Ms. Adler getting out from behind the wheel as she mutters a series of angry profanities under her breath. Before the woman can even get around to the hood of her car, the camera shows Erica racing toward her, roaring louder than she ever has before.

Ms. Adler's screams are even more deafening, clipping the audio and sounding tinny through the speakers of Stiles' phone. She runs at full speed in the opposite direction, Erica chasing her and Isaac pulling up the rear, shaky camera still in hand.

Stiles laughs raucously along with the rest of the pack as he watches, satisfied that the first part of Lydia's plan has seemingly gone off without a hitch. He didn't really expect anything different from the girl, though, truthfully speaking. The last minute of the video focuses on Ms. Adler tripping over herself to get away from Erica as the blonde dances around her and corrals her into the trees.

For the final shot, Isaac stays at the sidelines as he hurries to keep pace with the horrid woman, staying out of sight. Erica has vanished, no longer pursuing Ms. Adler, and the woman in question stumbles a final time before crashing to the dirt, gasping in pain when she scrapes her knee along a rough tree root that protrudes from the ground. When the video ends, another text flashes up on the screen, Isaac telling him not to worry and that the woman wasn't actually hurt since he didn't smell any blood. Locking his phone again, Stiles sets it down on the table before looking over everybody's faces, a smile stuck on his own. "Well, I'd call that a rousing success, wouldn't you?" he asks, high-fiving Scott when the beta holds up his hand in invitation.

"Yup! Now on to part two..." Lydia smirks, pulling her plans back out from her bag and setting them out across the table like she did earlier that day. She's halfway through filling Scott, Allison and Kira in on everything when Derek comes down the stairs, a large, rolled-up tube of paper in his hands.

"What's going on?" Derek asks suspiciously, having been stood at the top of the stairs for the past few minutes, listening in on the conversation going on in the living room. The fact that everybody's face turns guilty doesn't set his mind at ease, and it's only when Stiles gets up from his seat on the floor and shepherds him into the kitchen that he stops aiming his narrowed eyes at Lydia.

Swallowing nervously, Stiles pushes Derek to sit on one of the stools around the island, taking the one next to it as he readies himself to explain. "Now, this might sound pretty bad at first, but please bear with me, OK?" he asks, a small sense of relief sparking in his gut when Derek nods his assent and gestures for him to continue. "You know that teacher I'm always complaining about, Ms. Adler? Well, after she interrupted my presentation last week, I told Lydia about it and, uh...she came up with this plan to sort of get revenge..." At Derek's raised eyebrow, he turns fully to face the man and looks away as he speaks. "I don't know why, but she hates me, even more than Harris did, and I didn't even think that was possible. Erica and Isaac scared her a little, and the rest of us were planning on going out later on tonight to...mess up her classroom. Kinda."

Purposefully not speaking for almost a full minute just to watch Stiles sweat, Derek finally puts his mate out of his misery with a long sigh. "I can't say I approve of this plan of Lydia's, but I won't try to stop you," he says quietly, very much aware that Scott is listening in and relaying his words to the rest of the teenagers in the living room.

"Just don't get caught, OK? I don't want Melissa coming down on my head for you getting in trouble. She'd probably force you to move back in with her, Isaac and Scott, at least for a while, and I don't want that." With one last nod, Derek places a quick kiss on Stiles' cheek and leaves the room, giving a stern look to the rest of the pack to reinforce his warning before heading outside.


	11. Date

_\- Tuesday, August 28th, 2012 -_

The rest of Lydia's plan goes off without a hitch. Because of all the supernatural goings-on that have taken place at the school in the past couple of years, they'd all been expecting the heightened security they encountered when they arrived that night. The wolves' heightened senses had been utilised a lot while they vandalised Ms. Adler's classroom, each of them keeping an ear out for approaching footsteps so they had enough time to make a speedy escape should a security guard unexpectedly show up. They'd each taken a different part of the room, the blinds pulled down over the windows so that no one could see inside the room from the other side of the glass. As she planned beforehand, the last thing Erica did before leaving with everyone else was to scrawl a scathing message on the blackboard, so vulgar that Stiles had actually blushed when he read it.

Luckily, nobody got caught, and Stiles left with everybody else feeling a vindictive sense of accomplishment, like justice had been served. He gets to the school early the next morning so he can witness Ms. Adler's outrage firsthand when she gets a look at everything they've done.

Everyone else is already gathered in the hallway outside the woman's classroom, acting like nothing out of the ordinary is going on while also keeping an eye out for Ms. Adler. "Hey," Stiles greets as soon as he walks up to join them, gladly returning the hug Isaac pulls him into before trying to catch up on the current conversation. "Thanks for helping me out yesterday."

"No problem," Erica accepts easily, flicking her blonde curls over her shoulder from where she leans against Boyd. "We've gotta look out for our pack mom, after all." She gets immense pleasure out of the way Stiles turns red at her words, sending a small glare in her direction before looking away and pretending nothing happened. Even though the boy has long since stopped protesting the title all the betas have given him—sans Jackson, of course—it still amuses her whenever she glimpses a crack in his nonchalance, allowing her to see how much the name really affects him. He doesn't seem to approve of it very much coming from anyone other than Isaac, but he just lets it happen now, knowing that neither she nor the curly-haired beta will stop using it any time soon.

Every one of the wolves' ears perk up at the same time, all of them turning to look down the hallway. "Here she comes!" Erica hisses.

As the blonde pointed out, Stiles watches as covertly as he can as Ms. Adler comes around the corner at the other end of the hall. Her gait is a little slow because of the bruise that has formed on her knee from when she fell in the preserve. The rest of her doesn't look much better, her eyes skittering about the hallway as if she thinks whatever attacked her yesterday will do so again at any moment.

Stiles almost feels sorry for her, and he really would if she didn't glare at him when she passes, her attitude toward him clearly remaining the same. He waits on bated breath as the woman gets closer to her classroom.

Ms. Adler's hand pauses over the door handle as she gets a good look through the small window at the destruction within. Her face turns red and starts twitching as she tries to contain her anger, but it's pointless. She throws open the door with a bang and yells her frustration as she storms into the room, the bag and papers she holds in her hand going flying as she sees just how much her classroom has been screwed with. The message on the chalk board is a particularly rage-inducing: ' _Go rot in hell, you fucking bitch!_ ' She screams out her vexation before tearing back into the hallway, running as fast as she can in the direction of the principal's office, no doubt with the intention of giving him an earful.

"Well, that was fun," Erica smirks, sharing a fist-bump with Stiles and Isaac.

* * *

When Stiles gets home from school, he has a skip in his step because of how good the day was. He's still riding the high he got seeing Ms. Adler get her comeuppance, but as soon as he crosses the threshold, he can sense that something is amiss. He can't quite figure out what it is, though, only knowing that it's nothing life-threatening. When he enters the living room and finds Derek sat on the sofa, looking dejectedly down at his lap, his good mood instantly vanishes, replaced by deep concern for his mate. This wasn't what he was expecting to see when he walked through the door, especially since Derek doesn't often display his emotions as openly as he is in that moment, at least not before he pries them out of the man. It worries him. "What's wrong?" he asks, dropping his bag down next to the coffee table and taking a seat next to his wolf.

"It's nothing really..." Derek mumbles, not looking up to meet his mate's gaze. He starts a little when Stiles suddenly moves over and climbs into his lap, his hands automatically finding themselves settling around the teen's hips. He finally raises his head and peers up at Stiles' face when the teen's fingers run through his hair, sighing when he sees his expectant expression.

Looking away again, Derek leans into the touch before revealing what's troubling him. "It's nothing major. I just finished having another look for my necklace, but I still didn't find it," he explains, frowning but nevertheless allowing himself to be moved when Stiles pulls him forward, his face ending up buried in the teen's collarbone.

"Aww, Sourwolf..." Stiles soothes, a little shocked that the loss of his necklace is affecting Derek so much. He knew the man was fond of it by his initial reaction to losing it, but he didn't expect his wolf to still be _this_ upset about it. He shivers slightly when Derek exhales into the skin of his neck, tucking his chin over the alpha's head and rubbing his hand up and down his muscular back a couple of times before releasing him and connecting their mouths in a chaste kiss. "Alright, I don't want you to dwell on this anymore. I can't do it myself—even though I would be more than happy to—but I really think you should distract yourself with something. Is there some work you haven't finished yet that you can focus your mind on for the time being?" When Derek nods, he smiles happily, hoping that the alpha will adopt his positive attitude if he keeps it up. "Excellent! Why don't you go get cracking on that, hmm? I'm supposed to meet Lydia at the mall in a bit, so I'll be leaving soon, but I'll be back later and we can have some fun then, OK?."

After sliding off of Derek's lap again, Stiles watches as the man walks down the hallway and enters his study, the door shutting with a gentle click behind him. Sighing now that his mate is out of sight, he heads up to their bedroom to change his clothes in preparation for meeting up with Lydia at the mall.

Quickly getting sidetracked exchanging a series of increasingly offensive texts with Erica, Stiles doesn't realise how much time is passing by until another message pops up on the screen of his phone, this time from Lydia—' _Where the hell are you?! You were supposed to be here 10 minutes ago!_ '

Looking at the time, Stiles' eyes widen when he realises that she's right. A speedy raid of his and Derek's dresser later, he's rushing out of the house, yelling a hasty farewell to his mate over his shoulder before the front door closes. He doesn't remember ever driving as fast as he does then, not wanting to be on the receiving end of Lydia's wrath, especially not after what she did for him the previous day. He pushes the speed limit the whole drive to the mall, his eyes flicking down to the metre every couple of seconds to make sure he doesn't actually accidentally go over it. With how responsive the pedal is in the new Camaro, it's touch and go for the majority of the journey. He only slows down when he nears the mall parking lot, keeping an eye out of Lydia's car and finding the girl stood in the space next to it to keep it free. Looking at her sheepishly through the front windshield, he pulls to a stop in the space when she saunters out of the way.

"You will be punished," Lydia informs Stiles as soon as he gets out of his car. She doesn't wait for him to respond, choosing instead to wrap her hand tightly around his wrist and drag him toward to the mall's main entrance. She smirks to herself when she overhears the boy whine sadly.

Stiles isn't at all surprised when he ends up carrying all of Lydia's purchases for her, his arms quickly growing tired under the weight of all the bags. Even though he perseveres for as long as he can in an effort to ingratiate himself with the girl again, eventually, he's forced to break his silence on the matter.

"Why isn't Jackson here doing this instead?" Stiles asks breathlessly, thinking that the beta would be much more suited to the task than he is, what with his werewolf strength.

"He's being a dick again, so I'm ignoring him until he learns his lesson," Lydia replies shortly, looking through the dresses currently on the rack in front of them with a critical eye. The store must have gotten a new line in, since she doesn't recognise a single garment she comes across. It's a shame, she thinks, not finding anything she even wants to try on, let alone buy. In the end, she gives up her search, deciding that she's probably already got enough outfits to last her a while if she gets creative. Plus, as it is, her mother is no doubt going to have a conniption when she sees their credit card bill at the end of the month. She turns around and sighs when she sees the state Stiles is in. The boy has sweat beading on his forehead and his posture is terrible because of the weight all the bags he carries puts on him. Taking pity, she graciously takes a couple to carry herself.

It's when the two of them are finally making their way out of the mall again that Stiles catches sight of something that interests him out of the corner of his eye. "Wait!" he calls to Lydia, the girl having already marched on ahead without noticing his pause.

When the redhead just raises an impatient eyebrow at him, Stiles points as best he can toward the jewellery store he wants to check out. It's the same one in which he got Derek's first necklace. Figuring that it can't hurt to check and see whether they have anything similar in stock, he ignores Lydia's eye roll and enters the shop, the little bell above the door ringing as he steps through it.

Paying no mind to the female employee's wide-eyed stare, Stiles heads immediately over to the display featuring necklaces. He turns to look briefly over his shoulder when the bell sounds again and sighs in relief when he sees that Lydia has decided to follow him, the girl still looking unimpressed but choosing to peruse the other displays while she waits anyway. Stiles' hopes of finding a replacement for Derek begin to die when he looks over everything in front of him and sees nothing even similar to the triskelion necklace he bought before. It makes sense, he supposes—he wasn't really expecting the store to have the exact same stock as it did eight months ago, and yet, a small sense of disappointment still builds in his gut as he nears the last of it. It would've made a very good end to the day if he could get Derek a replacement then and there.

As a last ditch effort, Stiles hobbles over to the haughty-looking woman who stands behind the register and gives her a toothy smile. "Umm, hi," he begins, aware that Lydia is watching him the whole time, probably wondering what he's doing but thankfully remaining silent.

"I bought something from here earlier in the year for my boyfriend, but he lost it a couple of days ago," Stiles continues, swallowing nervously when he sees that the woman keeps eyeing him suspiciously, like she doesn't believe him. "Anyway, I know it's a long shot, but I was wondering if you had something similar in the back in any old stock or something. It was a triskelion necklace, like, three spirals that meet the middle?"

"Just a minute; I'll go and check," the woman says before disappearing through the doorway that leads to the back of the shop. She moves slowly as if what she's being asked to do isn't worth her time.

Stiles stands there patiently for the five minutes she's gone, not surprised in the least when Lydia tells him halfway through that she's done waiting for him and that she'll meet him by the cars whenever he's finished. Since the girl is now gone, he feels comfortable putting all of her bags down on the floor to rest his arms, rotating his shoulders a couple of times to work out the tension that had built in the joints. He definitely plans on asking Derek for another massage later on that evening if the soreness doesn't dissipate by then. Having gotten caught up in his thoughts, he doesn't notice immediately when the woman returns, only snapping out of them when she clears her throat pointedly, sounding rather annoyed. A smile lights up his face when he looks over and sees what she has in her hand.

In the open velvet box is another triskelion necklace, almost identical to the first. The only difference is that this one is white instead of regular gold. It also obviously doesn't have the ruby encrusted in the centre, but Stiles doesn't think that matters; he'd be lying if he said he didn't prefer how the old one looked before Lydia got her hands on it anyway, and he thinks Derek thought the same.

"Awesome! I'll take it!" Stiles exclaims, fumbling his credit card from his back pocket. Derek gave it to him shortly after they moved in together—"We're mates, love. My money is your money," his wolf had said with a wide smile on his face, no doubt getting satisfaction out of being able to provide for him like the adorable alpha he is.

It's the first time Stiles has used the card for anything other than buying groceries whenever Derek isn't there with him to use his own. Even with what the alpha had said, he's been unwilling to use it on anything else. While he's never been poor, exactly, he saw how hard his dad worked to pay the bills and put food on the table—the medical expenses leftover from his dementia scare notwithstanding—so he definitely understands the value of a dollar. He doesn't think he'll ever feel comfortable spending money as freely as Lydia is, and he doesn't think that's a bad thing. Still, he feels a little thrill when he hands his credit card over to the woman, who then looks at it suspiciously as if she's trying to work out whether it's genuine or not. He's glad he didn't have her serving him the first time he came into the store, and he prays that he never does again because she's so unpleasant.

"Alright," the woman says, swiping the card through the slot in the register and waiting for the purchase to go through. Once it does, she rips the receipt off when it's spat out and puts it with the velvet box inside a small plastic bag, which she hands over to Stiles. "Have a nice day."

Choosing not to call out how forced the woman's parting smile obviously is, Stiles just gives her a little wave before picking up all of Lydia's bags again—it's a real struggle, given that he has one of his own to add to the bunch—and shouldering the door open to leave. He shuffles out to the parking lot and finds Lydia waiting in her car, the engine on, loud music coming from within.

After knocking on the window, Stiles groans gratefully when the redhead opens the backseat for him to deposit her bags into. "God, my arms..." he complains, bending over slightly and catching his breath again. The only response Lydia offers is to scoff in his direction, so he sticks his middle finger up at her when he finds the energy to stand up straight again. "Please tell me my tireless efforts have made up for me being late earlier..." He waits, tapping his foot as the girl holds her hand to her chin and pretends to mull the question over, a smile appearing on her face when she finally gives him a 'yes'. "Great. Well, I'm in serious need of a nice, relaxing bubble bath, so if you'll excuse me." With that, he takes his one small bag and gets into his own car, waiting for Lydia to pull out of her space next to him before doing the same and beginning the drive home.

* * *

When he passes by Charlie's street, Stiles remembers the conversation he and Derek had the previous evening, just before he left with the rest of the pack to wreak their own form of justice. Wanting to take Elizabeth up on her offer, he makes a detour and parks in front of the woman's house.

Elizabeth's car is in the driveway, so Stiles feels confident enough walking up the front path and knocking on the door. He gets an answer immediately, the wood swinging inward to reveal the woman standing on the other side, clad in a deep purple dressing gown that looks unbearably soft. He has to stop himself from reaching out to touch it.

"Hey, Ms. Alexander," Stiles greets, stepping forward when Elizabeth moves aside to grant him entrance. The place is a little different than he remembers from his first visit, though he guesses that's just because Charlie and her mother must still be in the process of finding the right places for all of their belongings. While he's never experienced it firsthand, he can guess what a chore moving houses can be and how long it must take to get fully settled again. The walls are a different colour, and he can just about pick up on the faint scent of fresh paint that lingers in the room. He declines Elizabeth's offer of a cup of tea as he takes a seat on the living room sofa, ending up directly across from the woman with the coffee table positioned between them. "Is Charlie here?"

Elizabeth shakes her head. "No, she's out getting replacements for some of her things that were lost in the move," she explains, leaning back in her chair to get more comfortable. "I assume you're here to follow up on what Derek and I discussed yesterday?"

"Yeah, I gotta say I was pretty surprised when he told me," Stiles replies, crossing one of his legs atop the other before continuing. "So...what's your story? I mean, as much I want to trust you and carry on as if everything is all hunky dory, we've been screwed over by lies before, so I want to know everything." He meets Elizabeth's gaze coolly, trying to project an almost intimidating aura to dissuade the woman from being untruthful.

Chuckling quietly, Elizabeth looks down at her hands briefly before following Stiles' request. "I completely understand your hesitance," she begins, meeting the teen's eyes again as her laughter tapers off. "I grew up in Florida with my sister, our mother, and my grandmother, a close-knit family of witches. I was always taught not to trust outsiders, that the only people I could depend upon were my blood relatives. That never really sat right with me, but I kept my mouth shut and just did as I was told. Then, in high school, I met Paul. We hit it off straight away, and much to my family's chagrin, we got married right after graduation. He wasn't a witch like I am, but even so, he accepted that side of me without question. Our marriage had consequences for a while; I was excommunicated from my family, but when I got pregnant with Charlie, my mother took us back so that she could get to know her granddaughter. Everything was perfect then for a long time. Of course, that's when things started to go wrong again. I don't know what happened, but eight years ago, Paul went missing.

"There were no warning signs, and the two of us were happily married, so that ruled out him leaving of his own accord. The only plausible explanation was that something happened to him, something bad.

"I couldn't track him down, no matter what I tried—not even a locator spell could pick up on any trace of him anywhere. The grief almost broke me, but I knew I had to be strong for Charlie, and with my mother's help, I was able to pull myself together again and soldier on. Years passed without incident, but a few months ago, I began to get this strange feeling whenever I went outside, almost like someone was watching me, just out of sight.

"I went to my mother for help since she's more powerful than I am, but she said she couldn't do anything, that she couldn't stop whatever was after me. She told me the only way to remain safe was to run, to stop using magic altogether and take my daughter as far away as I could.

"It's tradition in my family to wait until your child reaches the age of eighteen before introducing them to their magic, which is why Charlie is still unaware of the supernatural world. Even so, I'm not sure whether it's a good idea to do so when the time comes. I don't want her to end up in danger if whatever was after me comes after her should she begin practising."

Stiles nods along to Elizabeth's tale, sympathising with her troubles when he's unable to detect any trace of a lie. He decides to take Derek's lead and trust the woman for now. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says after the woman remains silent for almost a full minute, lost in her memories. "Would it be unsafe for Charlie to learn about the supernatural world in general, without finding out about you or her powers, or is there still a chance that whatever was after you before would try again?" He's betting on that being the case, though he hopes he's wrong; he can't help thinking selfishly that the pack's life would be made a little easier if they didn't have to pretend they're just a regular group of teenagers whenever Charlie is around. It gets quite tiresome, but he's come to think of the girl as too good a friend to even contemplate cutting ties with her now. That would just be cruel.

"I'm not sure," Elizabeth admits, frowning deeply. "Even though it was only after me, there's still the risk that it could switch its focus over to Charlie if she ever began using her magic."

After another few seconds of thinking, she looks up again and meets Stiles' eyes once more. "Of course, it would indeed be possible for you to introduce her to the supernatural world without telling her about her heritage," she accepts, pursing her lips, "but even so, I don't think I'm comfortable with that happening just yet. I hope you can understand."

"Of course," Stiles responds, nodding and smiling kindly. "Just let me know if and when you change your mind. I'd like to be there to help if I can." With that, he stands up and walks around the coffee table. "I think that's about everything I wanted to talk to you about, so if it's OK with you, I'm gonna be heading back home now. I'm sure Derek is wondering what's taking me so long." He shakes Elizabeth's hand when the woman rises to show him out, her grip firm and confident. He's halfway down the front pathway when he hears her call out to him, and he turns to find her rushing out of the house with a small brown paper bag clutched to her chest. He looks at her in confusion when the bag is thrust into his hand. "What's this?"

"I put together a sort of...starter pack, I guess you could say, of ingredients I used to use in my spellwork," Elizabeth explains, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her body when the cool evening air blows around her feet. "I sorted it all for you yesterday after my talk with Derek. I figured you'd probably find it useful for your emissary training."

"Oh, yeah, Derek mentioned something about that. This is so nice of you," Stiles acknowledges gratefully, peering inside of the bag before dropping his hand and holding it at his side. "Thanks." With that, he turns and gets back into his Camaro, ready to finally head home.

* * *

When he walks through the front door of their house, Stiles finds Derek sat again on the sofa, sprawled sideways across the cushions with the television remote resting on his stomach. Some drama show plays out on screen, but the alpha sits up and mutes the sound when he enters the room.

"Hey. How was shopping with Lydia? Hell, I'm assuming?" Derek asks knowingly, easily able to sense that his mate is close to being completely tuckered out. He knows how much of a chore long stretches of time spent with the banshee can be. As Stiles comes closer, he notes with interest that the teen is holding one of his hands behind his back, hiding something from sight. He doesn't comment on it yet.

"You know it," Stiles replies, stopping when he reaches the back of the sofa. He smiles down at Derek when the alpha tips his head back to stare up at him expectantly, one thick eyebrow arched curiously. "So...I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes." His smile widens when Derek's expression instantly gets suspicious, and he waits the couple of seconds it takes for his mate to finally acquiesce, his eyelids slowly slipping shut. Reaching into the bag still in his hand, he pulls out the jewellery box and extracts the necklace from its velvet bed, allowing the box to fall to the floor with a soft thud as he undoes the clasp on the chain and drapes it around Derek's neck. He tilts the alpha's head forward so he can do the necklace up again, grateful that the man keeps his eyes closed the entire time, as requested. "OK, you can open them now."

Looking down, Derek's breath freezes when he sees the pendant now sitting in the middle of his chest. He had his theories about what it could be when he felt the weight of it come to rest there, but he didn't believe Stiles would've been able to find a replacement so quickly.

Picking it up delicately with a shaking hand, Derek inspects the triskelion necklace with great interest. He doesn't mind the change in colour, finding the silver tone almost compliments the smooth curves of the symbol better than the gold did. "What prompted this?" he asks eventually, finally tearing his eyes away from the necklace when he feels the cushion next to him dip as Stiles takes a seat.

"Well...when I saw how much losing the old one was getting to you, I wanted to do something to cheer you up again," Stiles mumbles, looking down at his hands when he finds that he can't hold Derek's gaze. The alpha's eyes are filled with too much love for him to handle without wanting to do something stupid, like tear up and sob like a baby, which...no. "I wasn't originally planning on getting anything while I was out with Lydia, but as we were leaving the mall, we passed the same jewellery store I got the first one from and I figured there was no harm in checking, you know?" He squawks in surprise when he suddenly finds himself on his back, Derek tackling him over and climbing atop him to press their mouths together tightly. He quickly gets with the programme, his eyes closing in bliss as his hands come around Derek's back to pull him closer, feeling the way the hard muscle shifts under his palms as his wolf's tongue invades his mouth.

Stiles feels Derek's new necklace smack into his chin as its owner moves above him, the alpha's hands winding through his hair and pulling lightly, making him whine quietly into the kiss with pleasure. When Derek pulls away and begins laying a series of close-mouthed kisses across his face and neck, it takes him a few seconds to realise that the man is talking in between each one, distracted as he is by the feel of lips on his skin.

"Mine." _Kiss_. "Beautiful." _Kiss_. "Mate." _Kiss_. "Perfect." _Kiss_. "Love." _Kiss_. "Everything." _Kiss_. "Forever." _Kiss_.

On and on it goes, so Stiles just lies back and lets Derek have at it, very much enjoying the weight of the alpha's muscular body resting atop his own. Eventually, though, his mate calms down again and places one last kiss on his lips before lying fully atop him, pressing him down into the cushions and nuzzling affectionately into his neck. It's not a bad place to be, Derek's breath sending shivers down his spine as it puffs out across his bare skin. He shifts his legs a little so that Derek's left falls in between both of his, the alpha's hip rubbing across his jean-covered crotch as everything else falls into place. From the snort his wolf lets out, he didn't do a very good job of covering up just how much that small bit of friction affected him.

"I take it by your reaction that you like the new necklace?" Stiles asks after a while, his left hand brushing over Derek's hair and his right wrapping around the man's shoulder to hold him in place, their chests pressed together. He can feel Derek's heart beat in rhythm with his own.

Derek hums his assent into Stiles' neck, his eyes closed in contentment at having his mate relaxed and warm beneath him. He worms one of his hands under the hem of Stiles' t-shirt, rucking it up until his palm is splayed flat over the teen's chest. He's unable to resist rubbing his pinkie finger over the taut pebble of his mate's left nipple, making him grunt and try to wiggle away from the touch.

"I'm glad you like it..." Stiles mumbles when Derek finally stops trying to disturb him, turning his head sideways slightly until his nose ends up buried in the dark strands of the alpha's hair. It smells like butterscotch. "Lydia's plan to get back at Ms. Adler went off without a hitch, by the way. You should've seen her reaction when she saw the state of her classroom... It was quite something. Plus, as a bonus, because of what we did, her classes have been cancelled for the rest of the week while everything is cleaned up again, so...score two for me." He chuckles into Derek's hair, his eyes slipping closed as all of the energy he exerted during day catches up with him. "Did you get all the work done you needed to while I was out with Lydia earlier?"

"Mmm, yup..." Derek breathes, very much enjoying the closeness they're sharing in that moment. It's not often he initiates cuddling sessions like this, usually choosing to leave that task to Stiles instead, but he feels this was a good time to make an exception.

Derek very much approves of having his nose pressed right up behind Stiles' ear, his nostrils filled with nothing but the teen's scent on every inhale. There's a slight tang of sweat to it, which he assumes is from running around after Lydia all afternoon, but he finds that it only adds to his mate's naturally addictive scent until it makes him slightly dizzy.

Squeezing himself impossibly closer, Derek concentrates on the feel of Stiles' heartbeat against his palm, the steady thrum of it beginning to lull him to sleep as well. Before he can actually drift off, though, he blinks his eyes open and huffs in disappointment as he levers himself up on his arms, moving to sit back in his usual spot on the leftmost cushion instead. Stiles looks like he disapproves of the loss of contact about as much as he does, so he beckons his mate closer again with a wave of his hand and rests his head atop the teen's when he ends up squished against his side. A press of a button un-mutes the television, filling the room with sound once more and giving him something else to concentrate on. As much as he would've loved to drift off then and there with Stiles tucked safely beneath him, he doesn't want to end up unable to sleep later when the sun goes down and it's actually time to go to bed.

* * *

_\- Thursday, August 30th, 2012 -_

Since his last class of the day should've been the now-cancelled Chemistry with Ms. Adler, Stiles gets to go home early, something of which he plans to take full advantage. He doesn't have anything specific planned, but he knows that he wants the rest of the day to involve no clothes.

When Stiles actually gets home, however, his plans are quickly ruined when Derek immediately intercepts him in the foyer, clad in his leather jacket. "Uh, what's up?" he asks dumbly, pouting but nevertheless allowing himself to be shepherded right back outside and into his car. Derek just climbs into the passenger seat and looks at him expectantly, offering no answer.

Starting the engine again, Stiles drives back out onto the main road and follows his mate's directions as he gives them, the alpha still remaining silent otherwise. His curiosity grows when Derek instructs him to drive past the town limits, venturing out into the wilderness. "Are you actually going to tell me what's going on, or are you just gonna stay quiet and let me stew in my curiosity?" he asks eventually, unable to take the silence. He sighs when Derek just smirks over at him and tells him that it's a surprise. Still, he decides to stop talking and let the man take him wherever it is they're going, knowing that the last time his mate had a surprise for him, it turned out incredibly well. Soon enough, they enter one of the neighbouring towns, the sun just beginning to go down as Derek directs him over to the other side. Something appears over the horizon after a minute, but Stiles doesn't immediately recognise what he's seeing.

It's only when he pulls his car to a stop in the parking lot that Stiles realises where Derek has brought him. It's a carnival, full of flashing lights and strange people milling about in groups between the attractions, laughter and screams of excitement pouring forth from them all.

"Seriously?" Stiles asks when they both get out of his Camaro, looking up at all of the rides. The Ferris wheel sticks out like a sore thumb, and he nods his understanding when he puts two and two together and realises that was what he saw on their approach. Derek takes his hand and pulls him along, a good thing, otherwise he probably would've stood there gaping like an idiot for the rest of the night.

After buying both of them tickets, Derek leads Stiles inside the carnival. "I thought we could have ourselves a little date night," he explains as they begin wandering between all of the rides and booths, looking over at the teen's face and smirking when he sees him gawking around at everything with disbelief and wonder. If he didn't know better, he'd be tempted to think that Stiles has never seen something like this before. "I overheard some people talking about this place when I was in town earlier, and I thought you might like to come check it out. Was I right?" He gets his answer when Stiles finally snaps out of his trance and squeals loudly, planting a wet kiss on his cheek that he quickly wipes off with the sleeve of his jacket, concealing his own pleased smile behind the leather. "I thought so."

Derek allows Stiles to drag him all around the carnival, sitting next to him on ride after ride and quickly getting caught up in the teen's infectious enthusiasm. He feels a deep sense of satisfaction when he beats his mate at several of the shooting games in the arcade.

Eventually, after filling both of their stomachs with junk food, Stiles commands that they finish the night by riding the Ferris wheel, a huge stick of pink cotton candy clutched in his hand as he tugs on Derek's sleeve childishly and pouts up at his scowling face to get his way. He grins widely when the alpha accepts, almost dancing around his heels as they head over to the large ride.

Stiles wiggles excitedly in place as he takes a seat in the car with Derek right next to him. They're in the last one to be filled, just the two of them, so as soon as they're settled, it sputters to life and begins its slow rotation. The sun has disappeared below the horizon completely by this point, making the bright flashing lights of the carnival the only sources of illumination in the area. The stars are still bright in the sky, though, and Stiles stares up at them with fascination when they near the top of the wheel, shuffling sideways to get closer to Derek and cuddle up to his side.

"This was a good day..." he mumbles quietly, sighing in contentment when Derek's arm comes around him and pulls them flush together, their bodies touching from head to toe. He feels his mate rumble deep in his chest in response, the vibrations running through him and making him giggle happily as he lays his head on the alpha's strong shoulder.

The chill of the wind whips around them, but Stiles doesn't feel it at all, not with his own personal space heater sat right next to him. They lapse into silence for the rest of the ride, and when they get off, Stiles feels a little like he's drunk, even though he hasn't had a sip of alcohol since his birthday the previous weekend. He allows Derek to guide him back to the car and gets into the passenger seat, letting the alpha drive instead.

Looking out of the window, Stiles is a little confused when Derek doesn't immediately take them back in the direction of their house when they reenter Beacon Hills. "Uh, Der? Home is thataway," he points out, aiming a finger behind them at the rear windshield.

"I know," Derek replies simply, a small smile on his face as he continues to drive, ignoring all of Stiles' questions about where he's taking them now. He keeps the car on the outskirts of town until they reach their destination, pulling the parking brake up and shutting off the engine. He flicks his eyes sideways and sees that Stiles is looking around the area in confusion. He's taken them to the same little secluded nook they had lunch in on the teen's birthday, not wanting the night to be over just yet because he's having such a good time. Instead of saying anything else, he reaches over into the glovebox and takes something out, not letting Stiles see what it is as he gets out of the car and moves to the backseat instead.

Taking a blanket that's stored behind one of the headrests and draping it over the leather, Derek chuckles when Stiles just looks over his shoulder at him with one eyebrow raised in question. "You coming?" he asks, patting the space next to him.

"Umm, OK?" Stiles replies, getting out of his own seat slowly and joining Derek in the back of the car. "What are we doing?" His eyes widen when, instead of getting a verbal answer, the alpha just pulls him closer and connects their mouths, large hands sliding beneath his hoodie to palm over his hips.

Getting the idea now, a pleased sound slips out of Stiles' mouth between heated kisses as he allows Derek to strip off his hoodie and pull his t-shirt over his head. "What brought this on?" he asks when their mouths part, breathing heavily already. He watches with great interest as Derek also begins shedding his clothes, his leather jacket flying over the top of the driver's seat with his enthusiasm and landing on the steering wheel.

"Well, I know how much you like whenever we have sex in my car, so I figured it was only a matter of time before you decided to...christen your new one, so to speak," Derek explains, smirking as he holds up the tube of lubricant he took out of the glovebox a minute ago. He'd slipped it in there before Stiles got home from school, already planning then to preempt his mate and make love in the backseat whenever they finished up at the carnival. He reaches forward and tugs Stiles' legs around to rest in his lap before fiddling with the buckle on his belt, pulling the teen's jeans and underwear off in one go when he raises his hips to allow him. With his mate now fully naked, Derek crawls atop Stiles as best he can in the confines of the car, slotting their mouths together again as he wraps a hand around the teen's rapidly hardening cock, pumping it a couple of times and flicking his thumb across the slit to gather the pre-come that's beginning to form there. He drinks up the small moans Stiles releases into his mouth with a growl.

When Derek lets go of his cock again, Stiles lets a plaintive whine slip past his lips, disappointed with the loss of contact. He doesn't get a chance to complain properly, though, because in the next second, Derek grinds his hips down so that the rough denim of his jeans rubs across his sensitive length. He can't help bucking up into the maddening sensation.

"No fair," Stiles gasps when Derek retreats, pouting up at the man for teasing him. "You still have far too many clothes on, by the way..." He slips his index fingers into Derek's belt loops to prove his point, pulling on them gently and looking up at him through his lashes.

"I completely agree," Derek mutters under his breath, tilting his head forward to avoid hitting it on the roof of the car as he gets to his knees, staying in position as Stiles fumbles with the button at his crotch. He smirks when the teen lets out a surprised noise, a shaking hand pulling down the zipper and revealing that he's going commando.

Every millimetre the zip is undone, the teeth part to reveal more and more of the dark curls that surround the base of Derek's cock, and the man can't help chuckling when Stiles begins salivating at the sight. When his jeans are fully undone, his expression turns into something more affectionate when the teen stares up at him in wonder, not moving to actually divest him of the deep blue garment. "Since I already had this whole thing planned, I didn't see the point in wearing underwear today," he explains smugly. Taking the initiative himself, he tugs his jeans down to his ankles, letting his hard cock free to slap up against his stomach, leaving a sticky patch behind in the hairs that run down from his navel.

Kicking his jeans off, Derek ignores them as they fall with a thud into the footwell with the rest of their clothes. He wraps a hand around his aching erection and stares down at Stiles with glowing red eyes, his hand moving slowly over his cock.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Stiles keeps his eyes locked with Derek's as his mouth inches closer to the alpha's leaking cock. When the tip touches his lips, he flicks his tongue out over the slit and smirks when his wolf hisses and bares his fangs in response, the man's hips jerking forward automatically in an attempt to get inside the wet cavern of his mouth.

With one hand, Stiles grabs a hold of Derek's hip and pulls him closer until the first couple of inches slip past his lips, his eyes fluttering closed and a groan slipping out around the thick shaft. Gradually, he bobs his head and takes more and more of his mate's delicious cock, not stopping until his nose is buried in the dark, wiry hairs at the base, the head easing back into the tight column of his throat. He stays there for a few seconds until his lungs protest the lack of oxygen, reluctantly pulling back and licking his lips as he stares avidly at Derek's cock. "Fuck my mouth," he croaks eventually before diving right back on the hard length, using the hand he still has around Derek's hip to guide his wolf's movements when he doesn't immediately follow his instruction. The alpha starts out tentative at first, like he's afraid of hurting him, but after a few slow, shallow thrusts, he seems to gain confidence and lose some of his inhibitions. All Stiles can do is moan and take it.

"God, you feel so good..." Derek chokes out, one of his hands winding through Stiles' hair to hold him in place, the other resting on the passenger seat next to him to give him more leverage to thrust. His full balls slap audibly against the teen's chin every time he shoves his cock inside.

Spit and pre-come slips out around Stiles' mouth, dribbling down the lower half of his face to run down his neck. His throat feels wrecked, but when he looks up and sees the blissful expression on Derek's face, he can't bring himself to stop the man, choosing instead to just relax as much as possible and breathe in through his nose every time the cock in his mouth withdraws.

When he fully gives into it, Stiles finds that it's actually not that bad. In fact, when Derek's hand pulls particularly hard on his hair, his own cock spurts a generous blob of pre-come that slowly descends along his length. From the way Derek growls at that exact moment, Stiles knows the alpha is able to smell it with his werewolf senses, his face shifted into his beta form as he blinks open his eyes and stares down at him with want clear in his expression.

After a series of erratic thrusts, Derek warns Stiles that he's close and tries to pull out completely, but the teen doesn't want that. He clamps down on the alpha's hips with both hands and begins moving his head instead to keep his mouth filled, not wanting to miss a drop. Derek chokes out his name, sounding almost pained as his orgasm crests, the alpha's cock pulsing in his mouth before the first hot jet of come spurts down his throat. It's only then that he allows himself to be pulled back a little, stopping when just the head of Derek's cock remains inside so that the addicting fluid gathers on his tongue.

Derek hunches over as he rides out his orgasm, his body shuddering, his hand splayed out in front of him on the window behind Stiles' head. When it eventually comes to an end, he breathes out heavily and almost collapses, only being saved from doing so because of the teen's continued hold on his hips.

Finally allowing mate's softening cock slipping out past his lips, Stiles swallows about half of the load in his mouth before dragging Derek down and kissing him again, sharing the alpha's come with his tongue and making him taste himself. He knows his wolf approves because of the pleased rumble that vibrates through his furry chest, pebbling his nipples and making him shiver in anticipation.

After the taste of his own come disappears, Derek rips his mouth away from Stiles' and shuffles backward slightly before flipping the teen over onto his stomach and hiking his hips up so that his ass sticks out. Stiles ends up squished against the car door, but he doesn't seem to mind, so Derek palms both of the teen's cheeks in his hands before pulling them apart and blowing out a long breath against the tight pucker hidden within. Having lost their alpha colour when his orgasm ended, his eyes begin glowing their preternatural red again when he sees the small pink muscle twitch in response, Stiles letting out the smallest whine into his forearms at the tickling sensation. Derek fumbles down into the footwell and searches for the tube of lubricant he dropped down there earlier, coming up victorious after just a few seconds. Coating his fingers liberally, he presses his index into Stiles' ass without warning, chuckling at the way the teen's body jerks forward because of how sudden it is.

Rubbing the pad of his finger deliberately back and forth across Stiles' prostate, Derek feels his cock begin to fill with blood again as he listens to the teen's resulting whimpers and mewls. He's quick to add second and third digits, scissoring them apart to stretch Stiles' hole as fast as possible. Even though he's just come, he's already desperate to get inside of his mate again.

When he deems Stiles to be adequately prepared, Derek slips his fingers out of the teen's hole and blankets him with his body. He holds himself up with his forearms just above Stiles' shoulders to avoid accidentally crushing him with his weight.

The position slots Derek's cock right between Stiles' cheeks, and the teen groans deeply and pushes his ass back against the hot length, desperate to be filled to perfection again in a way that only the alpha's cock can manage. He moves his hands to grip Derek's arms when he feels the man finally move, his hips drawing back slightly before pushing forward with intent, the head of his cock just catching on his stretched rim before sliding past. He whines at the teasing, looking over his shoulder and glaring up at Derek when his wolf just chuckles at him. "C'mon! Just get in me already!" he demands, trying to get up onto his knees so that he has some more leverage to push back.

Stiles is stopped from actually making it up, though, when Derek snaps his hips forward harshly, the alpha's cock pushing past the minor resistance his ass puts up and sliding right on in, coming home. He breathes out a choked, " _Yes_ ," the 'S' drawn out at the pleasure of being joined with his mate in the most intimate of ways once more.

Now that he's held tightly within the exquisite heat of his mate, Derek allows his body to lower completely, his chest pressed to Stiles' shoulder blades and their hips resting flush together. "Perfect..." he whispers, his lips close to Stiles' ear so that his breath blows out across the sensitive lobe, making the teen shiver underneath and around him. Slowly, he arches his back so that his cock slips out the tiniest amount before pushing back inside, aiming to keep things slow and unhurried as he takes Stiles apart piece by piece. His mate has already begun moaning beneath him, his familiarity with the teen's body making it so he doesn't even need to think about angling his thrusts the correct way. His body knows just what to do, knows just how to move to stimulate that little bundle of nerves with every movement, providing his beautiful Stiles with as much pleasure as he possibly can.

Shifting in place slightly, Derek bends his right arm until Stiles' chin rests in the crevice of his elbow, locking his hand around his left forearm to trap the teen in place even more.

The new position puts pressure on Stiles' throat and makes his breaths come in a little less easy, but he actually kind of likes it, appreciating a small sense of danger being present whenever he and Derek make love. He finds it makes everything that much more exciting, and even though he doubts it would ever happen, it stops things from ever becoming boring.

When Derek grinds his hips down in a particularly filthy roll, Stiles cries out as the man's cock presses right up against his prostate and stays there. He flails out a hand and reaches backward to grab a firm hold of the alpha's ass to ground himself, the intensity of it all almost too much to bear. His mind is focused in on everything at once, overloaded with all the sensations Derek is making him feel. From the way the firm, hair-dusted muscle of his wolf's ass flexes beneath his palm with each of the man's movements, to the deep, guttural growls panted into his ear...it all mixes together until he's forced to just give up and go limp, his mind blanking out and his eyes seeing nothing but white.

Each of Derek's small thrusts in turn rub Stiles' leaking cock against the blanket, the soft material lighting up the nerve endings just under the head until he thinks he's in danger of coming already, before anything has actually happened yet. His lax body goes taut again as it approaches, and Derek seems to sense it since he picks up the pace of his movements a little bit to help him along.

Derek groans long and loud when he feels Stiles clamp down around him, the teen's cock spurting where it's trapped between his stomach and the blanket. The increased tightness of his mate's ass and the pungent scent of his come sends him into a frenzy.

Biting down on the back of Stiles' neck, Derek holds his mate in place as he shuffles his knees forward a little bit, giving him more leverage to move his hips. He's now able to pull out further until just half of his substantial length is sheathed in his mate's tight heat, their skin slapping together roughly when he snaps his hips forward and buries himself to the hilt again and again. His weighty balls smack against Stiles' empty ones, causing the teen to cry out each time at the brief flashes of pain. Sweat gathers between their bodies, their torsos slipping and sliding against each other with each roll of Derek's hips, a filthy wet sound echoing throughout the confines of the Camaro every time their skin parts.

"You like that?" Derek grunts into Stiles' neck, not stopping to give his mate a chance to answer. He just keeps pounding Stiles' ass and revels as the teen wails out his pleasure, his enthusiasm ramping up a couple of levels when he feels nails dig into the flesh of his ass.

All of the car's windows are beginning to fog as the interior heats up from their lovemaking, a contrast to the cool evening air outside. When he pulls his head back a little bit to look down at Stiles' face, Derek can't resist sticking out his tongue and licking up a bead of sweat he sees making its way down the teen's forehead.

Derek rolls with the urge easily, peppering his mate's face and shoulders with kisses and bites, the occasional lick thrown in that serves two purposes. It gathers the addicting taste of Stiles while also making the teen smell more like him. Pretty soon, only the faintest trace of Stiles' natural scent is detectable, his mate covered in almost nothing but his own. His hips don't stop moving the entire time, heedless of the small whimpering sounds Stiles releases as his over-sensitive cock is rubbed constantly against the come-wet blanket with every movement. Soon enough, Derek feels his mate try to push against him, so he rears back and holds himself up by pressing both of his hands right in the centre of the teen's back, holding him down.

The brutal thrusts Derek has kept up transform into something more languid as he peers down between their bodies and watches himself disappear into the teen's tight heat. Even though this is far from their first time together, he still can't really believe he's able to fit himself completely inside, especially when his knot is brought into the equation.

Speaking of the bulb of flesh, Derek starts to feel the base of his cock swelling slightly as his orgasm begins to build in his gut. Stiles obviously feels it, too, the teen mewling every time he pushes himself forward again and the small bump stretches his rim further and further.

Changing their positions yet again by wedging his right hand beneath Stiles' body and pulling him up so that they're pressed flush together once more, Derek breathes into the side of the teen's face and curls his other hand around his cock. He strokes over the length slowly and smirks to himself when he feels it begin to plump up again in his grip. "You want my knot, love? You want my come plugged up good and tight inside your ass until you feel so full you could burst?" he rasps, growling deeply in approval when Stiles nods against him, their cheeks rubbing together. The coarse sideburns of his beta form get matted down with the sweat and saliva still on the teen's face from when he licked over his skin earlier. "I'll never get tired of this, of listening to the way you scream for me when I fuck you hard just like you need. You're so responsive, I love it. There's no better sight than you lying boneless beneath me after I've ruined you, all flushed and sweaty, covered in my come..."

Stiles groans as he listens to the litany of filth pouring forth from Derek's mouth. He never would've guessed that the alpha had such a skill for talking dirty before they got together, and the recent discovery is one he plans on taking full advantage of in the future.

Tilting his head slightly, Derek chases after Stiles' mouth, his tongue sliding past his mate's parted lips and stroking sensually along the teen's own. Their panted breaths mingle between them as he halts the movement of his hips, holding himself in place with his cock nearly all of the way out. Stiles is quick to loose a whine of protest, trying in vain to push back and fill himself up again, but Derek doesn't let him. The teen's rim clenches and flutters repeatedly just behind the head of his cock, making him groan as his orgasm gets closer. "You're in luck, Stiles, 'cause in a minute, I'm gonna knot you good and hard and give you what you want..." he moans, pushing his hips forward in one last, smooth thrust that pops his rapidly swelling knot inside his mate's welcoming hole, pushing it home.

The combined sensations of Derek's hand around his hardness and the alpha's knot pressing right up against his prostate tip Stiles over the edge for the second time, his cock shooting two feeble jets of come before his orgasm ends.

Derek roars into Stiles' neck, his sharp teeth clamping down and accidentally piercing the skin as he experiences his own release. His knot swells to completion and his cock twitches as it spurts within the warm channel of the teen's ass, filling him up gradually with every pulse of his slit, his balls drawing up tight. Stiles' legs give out a few seconds later, causing them both to flop down onto the blanketed backseat, his sweaty body still covering the teen's.

As his orgasm keeps on going, Derek's hips work in small circular motions, burying his knot further and making him shoot even deeper up inside his mate's ass. Stiles just lies there and takes it, too worn out from coming twice in such a short space of time to do anything. Derek retracts his fangs and licks over the small wound he made to soothe the ache from it, his hands stroking up and down the teen's sides when he feels his body shaking beneath him from the intensity of it all. The car reeks of their coupling, something about which Derek vehemently approves. God help the betas if any of them tries to get a ride from Stiles in the near future. The thought of their faces makes him laugh gently into his mate's sweat-damp skin. This jostles his knot and causes the teen to whine in discomfort, so he shuts his mouth again and tries to stop, not wanting to hurt the wonderful human still lying underneath him.

"You alright?" Derek asks about half an hour later, his orgasm mostly over. His cock only shoots the occasional jet of come now, and it'll taper off completely in another few minutes as his knot begins to go down.

Stiles nods into the soft blanket, unable to find the energy to open his mouth. His limbs are bent at odd angles, and the weight of Derek's muscular body atop his own makes it a little difficult to get enough oxygen into his lungs, but he wouldn't change it for the world. He's content as can be.

His knot finally shrinking and his cock beginning to soften, Derek sympathises with Stiles' wince of pain when he slips out, a steady trail of come following as he moves back and kneels between his mate's spread legs. He takes both of the teen's cheeks in his hands and parts them, staring down at the abused ring of muscle and watching as whiteness continues to leak out. Bending down, he seals his mouth around Stiles' rim and sucks, swallowing his own come and running his tongue in soothing circles around the teen's sore hole. He figures that this will make it easier for Stiles later on, giving him less to clean up. For his part, Stiles makes a small noise of confusion before going quiet again, his body remaining limp as he allows Derek to do what he wants. Soon enough, the alpha is swiping up the last trails of come from Stiles' inner thighs with his tongue, the teen's skin licked clean.

Sitting up again, Derek smiles fondly when he looks down at Stiles' face and sees that he's fallen asleep. He takes the side of the blanket that's draped over the back of the seats and covers his mate with it, almost like he's tucking him into bed.

Grabbing his jeans from the footwell, Derek clambers out of the car and shimmies into them before starting the engine and beginning the drive home. He'll carry Stiles up to bed when they get there, figuring that there's no point in waking the teen now, given that he'll just be going right back to sleep a few minutes later. Soon enough, Derek is sliding onto the mattress next to his mate, cuddling up close beneath the covers and joining him in the land of dreams.


	12. Bloodlines

_\- Friday, August 31st, 2012 -_

Stiles opens his eyes and finds himself tucked in bed. He sees the darkness of his and Derek's bedroom and just assumes it's that way because it's still nighttime, but when he rolls over onto his back, he realises he's wrong. Derek is nowhere to be found, and when he looks out of the window, he sees nothing but black. Flinging back the covers, he slides off of the mattress and pads over to the glass pane, peering through it and sighing as he comes to the conclusion that he must be having another vision, this one in his sleep. Wondering what possible horrifying future event he'll be witnessing this time, he gets some sweatpants out from the dresser so that he's not wandering around completely naked and ventures out of the room, his steps cautious. His vigilance decreases with each room he explores, though, finding nothing out of the ordinary in any of them.

Guessing that whatever he's meant to see must not be there, Stiles opens the front door and goes outside, not bothering to shut it behind himself. The darkness is as ubiquitous as always.

When he gets to the edge of the visible ground, just before where the tree line would normally be, Stiles frowns when a pathway doesn't immediately open up for him like it always has in the past. He stands there, baffled, for almost a full minute before shrugging and turning around to face the house again. The sight that greets him startles him.

Almost falling backward on his ass, Stiles stumbles a few steps before regaining his footing, staring open-mouthed up at the house in shock. Where his and Derek's home stood not even five minutes before is now a building that looks quite different. It's two storeys tall instead of three, the outside is painted a rich brown instead of plain white, and there's no wrap-around porch. Several vehicles are parked in front of it, though both his and Derek's Camaros aren't among them. He can't figure out what's happening, try as he might. When he steps closer to the strange house, he picks up on a rumbling emanating from far away, which gets closer and closer until another car suddenly appears. It comes forth from the blackness on the outskirts of the clearing before pulling to a stop next to the other vehicles.

Someone that Stiles feels he knows gets out of the driver's seat. After a few seconds of staring as she smoothes out the wrinkles in her dress, he figures out why the woman seems familiar—he's seen her in Derek's old family photo albums. It's his mate's mother, Talia Hale.  


"What the fuck...?" Stiles rasps, his throat feeling tight as he guesses he must be seeing the past this time instead of the future. Taking a couple of aborted steps forward, he freezes again when he notices something which seems so obvious now that he can't believe he didn't see it earlier. His mother's old car is parked in between two others, which he assumes belong to other members of the Hale family. "This is absolutely fucking insane..." He swallows nervously, his heart beginning to beat faster in his chest at the possibility that he might see his mother again, even if she isn't actually real. He doesn't know if he really wants to, since the fact that she's dead is still hard to deal with years later. Seeing her alive and well again might make it even more difficult of a weight to carry.

Figuring that he doesn't really have a choice, Stiles snaps out of his daze when Talia begins walking toward the front door. He follows her, just managing to slip through the door before she closes it.

A contrast to the outside, the interior of the house looks pretty much the same as it does in the present, at least judging from the foyer. A man Stiles knows is Derek's father, Nathan, comes through from the living room to greet Talia, giving her a kiss on the cheek before informing her that she has a visitor waiting for her in the study.

When Talia thanks her husband and heads down the hallway, Stiles is stopped from following her when he hears thundering footsteps approaching from the direction of the kitchen. Before he can go and investigate, his eyes widen when the cause of the noise storms through the room and heads up the stairs. Derek looks around six years old, which Stiles guesses makes sense since he wouldn't have been born yet and there's an eight-year age difference between them. The scowl the young boy wears on his face is positively adorable, and Stiles is fascinated by the fact that his mate often pulls the same expression in the present, thick eyebrows and all. He watches as Derek ascends the stairs to the second floor, muttering under his breath about his 'pain-in-the-ass sister from hell'. He guesses it's Laura the boy is talking about, since Cora wouldn't exist yet either.

Finally walking through the hallway Talia disappeared down a few seconds ago, Stiles finds the woman talking to two men in the kitchen, leaning against one of the counters with a glass of water clutched in one hand.

Stiles' heart skips a beat in fear when he gets a look at each of the men's identical faces. Jeremy and Landon look fresh out of their teens, a barely there beard on the former's face. Landon looks vastly different from the last time Stiles saw him, mainly because his hair isn't bleached ice blond yet and he doesn't sport any piercings or tattoos.

Quickly getting distracted by the twins' discussion, Stiles doesn't immediately noticed when Talia leaves the room again. He remains in the kitchen, listen as Jeremy tries to convince his brother to stop winding their adoptive sister up and pushing his luck. Stiles guesses that this is the beginning of Landon's decline into madness, and this theory is backed up since he's already able to pick up on the smallest trace of it in the man's eyes. It's no wonder Derek never felt comfortable around this particular uncle. When Landon exits in a strop, leaving Jeremy to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, Stiles finally realises he's lost track of Talia. He doesn't know why, but he feels something in his gut which tells him it's important he find her again.

Deciding to trust that instinct, Stiles heads back into the hallway and finds a much younger Deaton standing with his ear pressed against one of the closed doors. This causes a memory to flash across his mind, of the veterinarian telling him about the time he overhead a conversation between Talia and his mother. He guesses this is that day.

"Deaton! What are you doing? You shouldn't be listening in on private matters that don't concern you."

Nathan's voice is booming and full of judgement, and Stiles watches in fascination as Deaton nearly leaps out of his skin, springing back from the door and looking sheepishly down at his feet. "Come on... It's probably time for you to be thinking about heading home anyway; it's getting late," Nathan suggests, pressing a hand to the small of Deaton's back to get him moving toward the front door.

The submissive behaviour displayed by the future veterinarian surprises Stiles, having never before thought of what the man was like before they met when Scott got his job at the clinic. He wonders when that changed. When the sound of the front door opening and closing echoes through from the foyer, he walks tentatively toward the door Deaton had been eavesdropping through, pressing his own ear to the wood and listening for voices on the other side. At first, he doesn't pick up on anything, but after a few seconds, he manages to catch a few words that he thinks are spoken by Talia. She's asking whoever is in there with her to tell her what's wrong, to not worry about receiving any judgement in return for whatever they have to say.

Reaching for the knob, Stiles grins quickly when he finds that he's able to turn it, the door swinging inward with a gentle push. The people in the room don't seem to notice that anything has changed as he steps inside to the join them.

When he turns around after shutting the door again, Stiles sucks in a harsh breath when he sees his mother sitting on one of the chairs in what he assumes is the study Nathan spoke of earlier.

Claudia looks young and healthy, an image Stiles sometimes struggles to remember, the memories he has of her frail and sickly-looking body lying in a hospital bed overshadowing it most of the times he dares to think of her. She sits with her hands clasped in her lap, a nervous look on her face as she remains silent. Her brown hair flops down in front of her face as she refuses to meet Talia's expectant and understanding face. Stiles steps forward slowly, the small, idiotic worry blossoming into existence in the back of his mind that any sudden movements on his part will disrupt the scene in front of him.

Easing himself down into the free chair next to his mother, Stiles watches her, hardly daring to breathe when she finally starts talking. He wonders briefly why he's acting so calmly before putting the question out of his mind.

"You probably want to know why I requested a meeting with you, right?" Claudia asks, looking up and returning Talia's gaze. When the other woman nods, she continues. "Well, you already know I'm aware of what you and your family are, but I think I'm ready now to tell you how and why I came here."

Both Stiles and Talia perk up at the same time. Stiles is anxious to hear about his mother's mysterious past, still not quite able to believe, even with the evidence staring him right in the face, that she led this whole other life without telling him anything about it. He listens with rapt attention as she begins detailing the events that led to her fleeing her home country for America.

"Back in Poland, I grew up in a coven," Claudia explains, her eyes getting this far-away look to them as she reminisces about her past. "Most of the town I lived in was a part of it, and it was made up of several different families. My mother and aunt were the most powerful witches any of them had seen in _years_ , so they were immediately made high priestesses, guiding the rest of the coven through their circles and helping them practice and improve upon their own, lesser magics. I loved life there. Everything was so fascinating and there was always something new to learn, so how could I not? When I was around five years old, my aunt had to step down. She'd gotten pregnant, so she couldn't keep up with her duties like she was supposed to; her body couldn't handle the strain, not if she wanted her babies to stay healthy. I don't know what happened, but for some reason, she left the entire coven halfway through her pregnancy, and none of us ever heard from her again."

Stiles stares with rapt attention at his mother's face the entire time she's telling her story, hanging on every word coming from her mouth.

Having always thought that he was just a regular human, at least until the Nogitsune was expelled from his body and his magic was kickstarted, the fact that all of his ancestors were a part of the supernatural world as well is almost too much for Stiles to grasp.

The room flickers suddenly, everything jumping in place for a couple of seconds. When things go back to normal, Stiles sits up straight in his chair as he tries to figure out what just happened. His mother's recounting has cut off, and when he looks back over at her chair, he's surprised when he sees she's no longer sat in it. Instead, Claudia is now standing in front of the one of the bookcases, her back turned to him and Talia.

"How is it I've never heard of you before? I would've thought something happening that's as bad as what you just told me would've gotten around in supernatural circles," Talia asks. She remains sat behind her desk, leaning back in the large chair with her hands gripping the ends of the armrests at her sides. She projects such an air of confidence and power that Stiles has absolutely no trouble believing all of the stories Derek has told him about her in recent months. He can definitely see why she was the alpha at the time.

Talia's question clues Stiles into the fact that the memory he thinks he's seeing has skipped forward a few minutes, cutting out all of the important parts. He grows frustrated about this, having been incredibly curious about how his mother's tale ends.

"I changed my name as soon as I fled to the States. My real name is Cesia Kowalczyk," Claudia answers, keeping her back turned. Her voice drips with loss.

Stiles immediately commits the name to memory, already planning on finding out everything he can about it whenever he wakes up again. The Internet can prove to be a very valuable source, and he's grown even more adept at using it since Danny entered the pack, always eager to learn and master any small hacking tip the Hawaiian teen is willing to offer him. He's spent a few nights in recent months just sitting and looking over Danny's shoulder as the other boy hacks into things for fun, finding the whole process fascinating. He wishes he could do it as well as the beta, but then again, he wouldn't want to take away one of the things that makes Danny such a unique asset to the pack. He would hate if someone tried to do something like that to him.

As soon as his mother reveals her name, the scene in front of Stiles flickers again before disappearing altogether, the room transforming into his and Derek's present-day study. "What?! That can't be everything!" he shouts with rage, leaping to his feet.

Running outside into the hallway to see if anything else is going on elsewhere, Stiles is disturbed to find that parts of the house are bathed in darkness.

Finding that it's almost like a pathway, Stiles follows it as it leads him back into the foyer and up the stairs to the second floor. It's eery seeing his beloved home that way, and he's unable to remember it seeming quite this bad the other time he saw it in one of his visions. He keeps his gait slow, his ears and eyes all open and on the lookout the tiniest sound or sight that will reveal what he's still doing there. The illuminated sections of the house lead him down the second floor hallway. He tries to open all of the doors he walks past, unsurprised to find that none of them budge an inch since he didn't think there would be anything of interest in the betas' bedrooms anyway.

The last door, the one right at the end of the hallway, almost tucked out of sight, is a different story. The knobs turns easily, and Stiles stands there for a few seconds to gather his courage before pushing the door inward.

Stiles glances around uneasily as he steps into the room, not really feeling comfortable being in there, especially not when the door closes on its own after he crosses the threshold. Kept within are most of his parents' things. It's a tenuous balance he's kept ever since he moved in with Derek all those months ago. While he can't bear to actually see everything, not even on his good days, he likes knowing that it's close, within reach just behind a door should he ever feel brave enough to lay his eyes on it all at some point in the future.

Given the revelation he just overheard, Stiles assumes that whatever else his vision is trying to tell him must have something to do with that room. Should he search through everything, it wouldn't shock him now if he were to come across some secret item he never knew about before.

After his mother's death, the packing up of all her things was left to Stiles, since his father became inconsolable and couldn't help if he even so much as saw a glimpse of his late wife's face or one of her dresses. Stiles was still dealing with too much of his own grief to give anything more than a passing glance as he shoved it all away into boxes and sealed them shut with an excessive amount of parcel tape. He wrote ' _MOM'S STUFF_ ' on the side of all of them before putting them in their designated corner of the attic, where they spent years gathering dust. He doesn't think they were ever touched again until the betas helped clean up the old house after his dad's funeral.

As it is, Stiles hasn't been inside this room for more than a second since he moved in with Derek and put all the stuff there, the memories still too painful to even contemplate staying any longer.

Unfortunately, it doesn't appear that Stiles has much of a choice now, since his curiosity is too great to even think about backing out now that his vision has lead him there. He wishes it would be more specific, though, because he doesn't remember what items are in which boxes and he really doesn't want to go through every single one looking for whatever he's supposed to find.

After releasing a long sigh, Stiles moves forward, intent on doing just that. He doesn't get very far. As soon as his fingers skate over the top of the first box, everything seems to disintegrate into dust, floating away through the walls on a nonexistent breeze. It's the same thing that happened to the two doubles of himself when Derek joined him in a vision that one time, only now it infuriates him instead of filling him with relief. Just when he'd worked up the massive amount of courage needed to go sleuthing, his efforts have been rendered pointless in the blink of an eye before he even had a chance to pull off the first piece of tape. Groaning, he sits himself down on the ground moodily, thinking the room looks strange now that it's completely empty again.

Blinking a couple of times, Stiles holds a hand up to his head when he begins to feel dizzy, the plain walls spinning around him. When he lowers his arm and looks down at his palm, his eyes widen when he sees the substantial amount of blood on his pale skin, staining it a shocking red. Almost as if the floodgates have burst open, his vision becomes clouded with the colour as well, wetness trailing down from his forehead and into his eyes before flowing in long streams onto his clothes.

His eyes rolling back in his head, the last thing Stiles registers is someone screaming his name, the hoarse, panicked sound seeming far off in the distance.

* * *

Stiles jackknifes awake to his alarm going off, the clock on the nightstand beeping incessantly until he reaches over blindly and smashes his palm down over the button on the top. He can feel Derek stirring behind him, and it takes his mind a while to clear and for him to realise that he doesn't remember how he got from the car to the bed. He assumes that Derek must have carried him up once he passed out. When he moves and feels no stickiness between his thighs, he also guesses that his mate took care of the cleanup from the previous night's more amorous activities as well. He grins to himself at the memory, his ass clenching reflexively around nothing as he recalls having Derek buried deep inside of him again. Just the thought of it never gets old. It's then that he notices his heart is racing, a strange realisation since he's done nothing but lie there in the minutes since he opened his eyes.

Blinking a couple of times, Stiles sits up and tries to recall what his dream was about. It's foggy for the most part, but he knows there's something significant hidden within it. He watches with casual interest as Derek slides out of bed and moves about the room, all the while continuing to wrack his brain.

After he still comes up with nothing, Stiles sighs and copies his mate, deciding to come back to it at a later time and just focus instead on getting ready for school.

Everything proceeds normally until he gets out into the hallway and sees a flash of a memory in his mind. Stiles remembers walking down to the other end very recently, but he can't figure out why in the hell he would even dare to do that, having never wanted to put himself through the heartache before then. He must stand there for a very long time, stuck in his own head, because the next thing he knows, Derek is stood before him, waving a hand in front of his face with a look of concern painted across his own. "Umm, wha-?" he asks dumbly, blinking up at the alpha in confusion as he comes back to himself.

"Finally! I've been trying to get your attention for almost a full minute now," Derek responds, frowning and resting his hand on Stiles' shoulder before giving him a little shake. He looks down at the watch wrapped around his wrist. "Shouldn't you be leaving for school? You're going to be late if you leave it any longer."

Grabbing Derek's wrist to check the time himself, Stiles groans to himself before pecking his wolf chastely on the lips and racing down the stairs.

After spending the entirety of the drive to school lamenting the fact that his stomach is empty and growling at him in protest, Stiles pulls into one of the last empty spaces in the parking lot and hops out of his car. He grabs the strap of his backpack and slings it over his shoulder before joining the last few other stragglers as they enter the main building, hoping when the bell rings that it's the first time and not the second.

Taking a seat between Lydia and Erica when he rushes as quietly as he can into his AP Math class, he mouths a silent 'thank you' to each girl for keeping it free for him. Placing his bag on the desk, he shuffles through everything inside, searching for his notebook and groaning loudly when he doesn't find it. He slaps a hand over his mouth when he notices the teacher glaring at him from where she stands in front of the blackboard, blushing intensely after she finally breaks eye contact and goes back to writing a series of complicated equations in white chalk. Closing his bag again, he knocks it off of his desk and lets it fall with a soft thud to the floor, settling himself in for a tedious hour where he'll learn nothing, until Lydia slides a spare notebook across to him a few minutes later, that is. She's scrawled a neat message of ' _Idiot_ ' at the top of the first page, and he barely suppresses a chuckle as he reads it.

The rest of the class passes surprisingly quickly. Stiles' mind keeps trying to slip back to earlier that morning whenever it's not otherwise occupied taking down notes or whenever he's called up to the front to solve an equation on the blackboard.

Just like that morning, nothing concrete comes to him, making Stiles antsy. Usually, being unable to remember his dreams is something of a blessing, as about half of the times he does, he wishes he hadn't, his dreams turning out to be nightmares of the worst calibre. This time, though, something in the back of his mind keeps telling him that whatever he saw in his sleep is important and that he should keep trying to remember it.

Walking out of the classroom when the next bell rings, Stiles rips the pages he'd written in out of Lydia's notebook and hands it back to her when she falls in step next to him.

They share most of their classes that day, so for the most part, they stay glued to each other's sides. It would've been a dream come true for Stiles just a year before, but now it just feels like a normal occurrence. Even the thought that it seems normal now is stranger than the fact itself.

Stiles is a little concerned when he doesn't see a single trace of Charlie at any point throughout the day, but after sending the girl a quick text, his worries are put to rest when he receives a reply almost immediately, telling him that she's just a little under the weather and that it's nothing serious. He supposes it'll make one thing easier: he won't have to try and come up with some flimsy excuse about why she can't join the pack when they all gather outside of the main entrance just after the final bell of the day rings, ready to go to the weekly training session that Derek forces them all to take part in. Only Stiles and Lydia are exempt, Stiles because he has his separate sessions with Deaton and Lydia because she chooses to be.

When Stiles pulls up at the house, the rest of the pack coming to a stop behind him and taking up the majority of the front yard, he gets out of his Camaro and looks up to find Derek stood at the top of the front steps. The alpha leans against one of the posts that supports the wrap-around porch, already clad in his workout clothes as he watches everybody else exit their vehicles with an expectant expression on his face.

"Yo, Sourwolf," Stiles greets as he walks up the front steps, kissing the man briefly on his bearded cheek before entering the house, already planning on what snacks he can make the puppies for when Derek has finished putting them through their paces again.

Most of the rest of the pack follows Stiles inside, heading up to their designated bedrooms and changing into their own more appropriate clothing before joining Derek in the back garden to get started.

Stiles watches the session progress through the kitchen window, feeling like a 50s housewife as he puts some cookies in the oven—the fact that he's wearing the frilly apron Cora got him for his birthday doesn't help matters, but he just shrugs to himself, deciding to pay no mind to gender stereotypes since he's happy with the little routine he has going on.

While he's washing the dishes in the sink, Stiles gets a little sidetracked watching Derek throw the betas around through the window. He doesn't worry about any of them getting hurt; the man has improved a lot on his control as an alpha since those first disastrous few weeks when he had a penchant for getting a tad too rough. There's still the odd occasion when someone will get injured—with claws and fangs and preternatural strength, it's still going to happen from time to time no matter how careful they all are—in which case Stiles will make them a little something special to help them feel better while they wait for whatever wound or broken bone they got to heal.

When he guesses they're about halfway done with the session, Stiles grabs eleven bottles of Gatorade from the fridge, one for everybody but himself, and heads through the back door.

Putting the bottles down on the picnic table that's positioned a little off to the side of the steps, Stiles sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles to get everybody's attention, smirking when they all freeze and stare over at him in confusion. He wonders how long it'll take them to cotton on to the fact that he does this every time they train, though he guesses that if it hasn't happened already, it probably won't at all.

Making sure to snag one of the blue bottles beforehand since that's Derek's favourite, Stiles points to the others and watches with great amusement as the tops are all immediately twisted off and the cold, brightly coloured liquid held within is subsequently chugged down at record speed by the betas and Allison. When Derek saunters over to him, his tank top absurdly and deliciously tight, sweat beginning to stain the light grey material dark, Stiles hands over his mate's own drink without a word, watching his wolf's throat work with appreciation when he tips his head back. He hears chuckling coming from behind, the betas no doubt laughing at how easily enamoured he gets whenever he sees Derek like this, but he doesn't care what they think.

Derek quirks an eyebrow and huffs quietly as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning knowingly at Stiles, his expression promising nothing but dirty things once the session is over.

"Can you two drool all over each other on your own time, please?" Erica asks with a bored tone, readjusting her ponytail to make sure all of her hair is still secured by the tie at the back of her head. "I'd like to get this over with already so I can go home and take a nice hot shower... You guys can eye-fuck all you want when we're long gone, OK?"

His face promptly turning red, Stiles scuttles back inside to avoid any more humiliation, mumbling that he should probably keep an eye on the cookies anyway. Even so, he makes sure to continue watching how things progress through the window, taking out his phone and inserting it into the small stereo system he keeps in the kitchen for times just like this one. He taps his foot along to the beat, singing along quietly under his breath and still somehow managing to sound off-key. It's when he's pulling the fully baked cookies from the oven that he notices something is wrong outside. Peering through the glass with his brow furrowed in confusion, he pulls off his oven gloves and apron before exiting the house again, not bothering to shut the back door behind himself this time.

The pack is gathered in a tight circle, and Stiles struggles to wedge himself through one of the gaps until Derek shouts at them all to 'step back and give her some space'.

Derek is crouched down on the ground next to Erica, looking incredibly unsure of himself as the girl writhes in front of him, gripped by a seizure. "What the hell happened?!" Stiles exclaims, skidding to a halt and crashing down to his knees on Erica's other side.

Seeing that his mate still doesn't appear to know what to do with himself, Stiles guides Derek to hold on to his beta to stop her from accidentally injuring herself while he wracks his own brain, trying to remember everything he's ever read about epilepsy. Even though ridding herself of the disorder was the main reason Erica took the bite in the first place, it's not uncommon knowledge now that extenuating circumstances can still potentially trigger a seizure, like getting scratched by a kanima's claws. After Stiles fully took on his role as the alpha's mate and both his mother-henning and his protective instincts got more intense, he read up extensively on the subject in case it ever happened again, wanting to be better prepared.

Stiles keeps Derek in position until it looks like Erica is coming out of it, the muscles of her body losing their tension before a pained groan escapes her mouth.

Assuming her advanced healing will be kicking in at any moment, Stiles instructs Derek to carry Erica carefully inside, laying her down across the sofa in the living room. After a few minutes, however, the blonde still doesn't show any signs of reawakening, her eyes remaining closed even though her breathing is uneven. Stiles grows worried and turns back to Derek, who looks as baffled as he feels. "What happened?" he asks again.

Derek shakes his head as he paces back and forth, his wolf restless inside of his head because something happened to one of their betas. "I have no idea..." he replies, sighing and flopping down in one of the armchairs. "Everything was going fine; we were all training and nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Then, all of sudden, Erica complained about feeling a little off, so I told her take a five-minute break. When she was walking over to the table to sit down, she just collapsed and started shaking!" His voice grows more distressed as he explains the events to Stiles, feeling completely useless and ashamed of himself because he didn't know what to do until his mate came out to help and told him.

"OK, relax, Sourwolf," Stiles soothes, briefly leaving his spot next to the sofa Erica is stretched out on to grasp Derek's hand and give it a firm squeeze. "I don't think she's in any real danger now, so I want you to calm yourself down, OK? You did nothing wrong."

Waiting until Derek gives him a jerky nod, Stiles shuffles back over to Erica and lays his hand on her forehead, frowning when he finds that her skin feels overheated. It's not just the werewolf higher-than-human body temperature; it's like she's burning up. It's incredibly unusual for a werewolf, but he doesn't let his concern show, not wanting to accidentally upset Derek again. "Right, I think I remember reading about something that'll help, so everybody wait here while I double check a couple of things," he instructs, striding right through the rest of the pack as they continue to stand gathered in the doorway that leads through to the foyer. He jogs up the two flights of stairs until he gets to the library on the third floor, quickly scanning the shelves that contain the books on magic Deaton gave him when they first began training together.

A minute later, Stiles finds the book he's looking for, pulling it out and dropping it carefully down onto the desk that's standing nearby. He flips through the pages until he gets to the section he wants.

Reading through the text as fast as he can manage, Stiles nods to himself and commits the words to memory before exiting the room again. He ignores everybody's confused stares and just goes straight out the front door instead of rejoining them in the living room, walking over to his car and rummaging through the footwell on the front passenger-side.

"Stiles? What are you doing?" Derek asks when his mate comes back inside, carrying a small, nondescript paper bag in his hand. He rises from his seat to follow the teen into the kitchen.

"I just wanna make one-hundred percent sure that Erica'll be fine, so I'm gonna try something," Stiles replies, his voice slightly muffled because he's crouched with his head stuck in the cupboard under the sink. He reemerges a few seconds later with a mortar and pestle clutched in his free hand, which he promptly places on the kitchen island. Unrolling the top of the bag he still carries, he upends it so that its contents top out onto the countertop next to the mortar. After running through the list of ingredients in his head, he sorts through everything Elizabeth gave him, not paying Derek any mind when the alpha comes closer to get a better look at what he's doing. Luckily, everything he needs was in the bag, so he pushes aside what he isn't going to use before putting what he is into the mortar one by one and beginning to crush it all together using the pestle.

When everything is combined together into a uniform powder, Stiles tips it into a clean glass before filling it the rest of the way with water. The powder doesn't dissolve—it floats around the clear liquid instead and turns it into a sickly green colour.

"OK...this is a sort of 'blanket remedy', I guess you could say," Stiles explains finally as he reenters the living room. He shoos away the betas when he finds that they've gathered close to Erica in his and Derek's absence, crouching down next to her again when they move. "It covers most standard ailments, so hopefully it'll do the trick, and if there's nothing actually wrong with her, it'll just act like a pick-me-up. Someone prop her up; she needs to drink this and I don't think it's gonna taste very good..."

Boyd steps forward and gently eases an arm under Erica's shoulders, pulling her up and taking the seat that her head previously filled. She ends up leaning against his side.

Moving a bit closer, Stiles brushes a stray lock of blonde hair out of Erica's face before positioning the rim of the glass at her lips. Tipping her head back the tiniest bit so that her lips part, he begins slowly pouring the remedy into her mouth, pausing every few seconds so that she doesn't choke. For her part, Erica's body knows what to do, swallowing automatically each time her mouth is filled until all of the liquid is gone. Setting the glass down on the coffee table, Stiles leans back and lets out a long breath. "OK...now we wait and see if that worked," he mutters, sitting on his heels as he keeps a hand over the blonde's forehead, his hope for a full recovery getting bigger when he feels the high temperature ease off slightly beneath his palm.

Seeing that everyone else is still stood around awkwardly as they wait, Stiles pushes himself up to stand straight and stretches his arms above his head, his body slightly stiff from being folded up for so long. "Why don't you all go get washed up? I think we can call this training session pretty much done, right Der?" he suggests, glancing briefly at the alpha for confirmation.

Of course, Boyd doesn't move to follow the instruction like the rest of the betas, remaining glued predictably to his girlfriend's side instead.

While he waits for any change in Erica's condition, Stiles returns to the kitchen and begins transferring the cookies he made earlier from the baking tray onto a large plate for the betas to feast on. He leaves everything else where it is, planning to clean it all up later once everyone else has left.

It's not long before all of the betas have finished washing that day's training session from their bodies, returning to the ground floor clad once more in their regular clothes and taking up seats in the living room. Several of them end up sat on the floor around the coffee table because the sofa is still taken up by Boyd and Erica's unconscious form. To distract themselves, the television is turned on, some old rerun of _Desperate Housewives_ playing across the screen. It says a lot about how shaken up all of them are that none of the boys protest the choice in programming, the group of them just sitting in silence instead. They eat absentmindedly when Stiles brings the plate of cookies through for them, not really getting the intense enjoyment out of the delicious discs that they usually would.

Erica wakes up again about half an hour later. She groans quietly as she pushes herself up, her body still supported by Boyd's since she appears so weak. "Ugh, what the hell...?" she grumbles groggily.

"Hey, hey, hey, take it easy!" Stiles hastens to order when he sees Erica trying to get up before he thinks she's ready. He nudges Danny out of the way so he can wedge himself between the coffee table and the sofa and pushes gently on her shoulders to keep her sitting, only allowing her to swing her legs sideways so that her feet touch the floor and she's propped up against the cushions at her back. He retracts his hand when she brushes it off a second later. "How are you feeling?" A quick check tells him that her temperature has returned to normal, which is a relief. Her eyes are still a little unfocused when she blinks up at him, but he takes it as a win regardless.

Erica frowns at Stiles' question, wondering how she ended up in the living room. The last thing she remembers is feeling a little bit dizzy and asking Derek for a break. "I feel fine. Why?" she replies, smacking her lips and grimacing when she registers the awful taste in her mouth.

"You had a seizure," Stiles explains, smiling up at Derek gratefully when the alpha appears out of nowhere with another bottle of Gatorade in his hand. He takes it and offers it to Erica immediately, not having missed the disgusted expression that flashed across her face a second earlier. "Yeah...sorry about that. I had to give you something to get you better faster." He's a little worried when he realises he can't see the confidence Erica usually has burning in her eyes, which sometimes borders on arrogance, but he supposes it's understandable that she'd be a little unsettled given the circumstances.

"Oh..." Erica mumbles, looking down and leaning a little more into Boyd's side when the silent boy pulls her closer.

Feeling thrown and masking it with irritation, Erica's mind races as she tries to come to terms with her body's betrayal. She doesn't like the reminder of how pathetic she used to be before receiving the bite and wonders why it keeps happening even though she's a werewolf now, especially since Derek promised that fateful day in the hospital that the change would get rid of it for good. Still, she keeps a lid on her anger, refusing to direct it at the alpha because she knows none of this is actually his fault.

"If you're sure you're feeling OK now, maybe it would be a good idea to head home early?" Stiles ventures, glancing sideways at Boyd and inclining his head toward the blonde when their eyes meet. "I think what you need right now is a good long rest in your own bed."

Standing, Stiles takes the television remote from Scott and switches off the screen, raising an eyebrow at the crooked-jawed beta when he looks like he's going to protest. "It's probably a good idea for you to all head home yourselves," he points out, picking up the now-empty plate from the coffee table and carrying it through to the kitchen. He's pleased to find all of the betas in the middle of gathering their things when he returns, bidding each one of them farewell as they trickle out of the front door and into their respective cars. "Don't forget about the full moon tonight! Everyone stay safe!"

Erica and Boyd are the last two to leave, the blonde's movements still a little sluggish even though she puts on a brave face. Stiles stays at the door and watches as they drive away, silently wishing his Catwoman a speedy recovery.

* * *

A short while later, Stiles is still a little unnerved by what happened. He busies himself with cleaning everything up, washing the bowl he used to mix all the spell ingredients in before standing it upside down in the drying rack next to the sink. He's even more grateful now to Deaton for making him read all of those books in the last few months, even when it grew tedious; he doesn't want to think about what might have happened had that knowledge not been sat in the back of his brain. He guesses that even the ones Holly forced him to read will reveal their uses sooner or later. It's his recalling of those long hours that somehow flips a switch in his mind. Almost as if someone has shone a bright spotlight on the dream he had the night before, everything becomes crystal clear, in focus, and he remembers _everything_.

His body freezing halfway through drying his hands with a dishtowel, Stiles drops it right there in the middle of the kitchen, not caring that it lands on floor where anyone could trip over it. He can't believe that he forgot about something so important.

The name his mother revealed in his vision...he's come across it before.

Not even stopping to put on something warmer, Stiles races through the house and flings open the front door, unable to hear Derek as the alpha questions him about where he's going in such a hurry. He fumbles with his keys before getting in his car and driving off, the tyres screeching as he peels down the road in the direction of the veterinary clinic. While he thinks he's remembering it correctly, he needs to make absolutely sure he's right.

The place is closed when he squeals to a stop in the small parking lot at the back entrance. The oddness of that fact only registers for a brief second, that Deaton should be there working, before he dismisses it to come back to later when there aren't more pressing matters at hand.

Not caring if anyone sees him or about the damage he's about to cause, he focuses his power until his hand starts to burn hot before holding his palm over the lock on the door. He doesn't take it back even when the metal starts to melt under the intense heat, watching as it drips down onto the ground and mixes with the gravel before drying and hardening. It'll probably be a bitch to get rid of for whoever ends up having to clean it, but he doesn't care; he just keeps on going until the handle is nearly completely gone, the lock rendered useless as the door swings open. Grinning to himself, he strides inside and slams it shut behind himself before yanking open the cupboards he remembers Holly getting the books from in their last session, almost pulling the doors off of their hinges in his haste. He fumbles through all of the thick tomes within and pulls out the ones he recognises.

Each book gets dropped carelessly onto the countertop below until Stiles finds the specific one he's looking for, the one that gave a detailed account of coven in Poland many years ago. Now that he has it clutched to his chest, his movements become less hurried, the fast beating of his heart finally slowing down to somewhere in the realm of normal.

With shaking hands, Stiles balances the book on one of his arms before flipping it open to the first page. He runs a finger reverently over the short, handwritten message that looks back at him from the centre of the paper.

' _To my darling Cesia. May these pages be filled with enough knowledge and magic to light up your world even on the darkest of nights._

 _—love, Mother_ '

His earlier remembrance confirmed, Stiles takes a deep breath before closing the book and making his way back outside, intent on taking it home and rereading every single word with a more critical eye. Placing it right next to himself on the passenger seat, he can't help but glance over at it every single time there's pause in his driving, whether from a stop sign or a red light. He's incredibly anxious to see what secrets lay hidden within, already knowing that he won't be giving it back to Deaton when he's finished, not now that he knows it contains his mother's words, each one of them precious. He guesses the vet will understand. If not...then that's his problem, he figures.

Stiles finds Derek waiting for him right inside the front door. The alpha stands there silently with his arms crossed over his impressive chest, his concerned eyes flicking down to glance at the book held in his arms before returning to his face.

"Where did you rush off to so suddenly?" Derek asks, finally breaking the silence. He follows Stiles when his mate gestures for him to do so, trailing after the teen like a confused puppy all the way up to the library on the third floor. He watches as Stiles sits down in one of the comfy armchairs next to the window and stares down at the book in his lap. "What is that?"

"You remember when I zoned out this morning?" Stiles answers finally, his voice quiet as he tears his eyes away from the book to look up at Derek, just in time to catch the alpha's nod of assent. "Well...the reason for that was because I was trying to remember something I dreamed about last night, something involving the room I keep all my parents' things in. No matter how hard I tried, nothing came to me. When I was cleaning everything up after Erica and Boyd left, I was thinking back to all the stuff I read in that last session with Holly...and I remembered. It was another vision, a memory, but not one of mine." He taps his finger on the cover of the book. "I saw what Deaton was talking about before, of when he overheard a conversation my mom had with yours. She told your mom her real name, and I think this book used to belong to her."

Derek takes a seat in the second armchair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Are you sure? I mean...I believe you and everything, but this all sounds pretty convenient," he points out, peering curiously at the book when Stiles flips it open to the first page. He reads the writing there with a frown.

"I have no idea how it got from my mom to Deaton—mark my words: I will be asking him about that later—but yeah, I'm sure," Stiles replies, handing the book over to Derek to look at more closely.

Leaving his mate to read to his heart's content, Stiles quickly retrieves his laptop from downstairs before rejoining the alpha, switching it on and typing his mother's name into a programme Danny made for him to aid his research. It works like any other search engine, really, only it's much more efficient and goes deeper into the web than all of the standard ones. He clicks result after result, looking for anything that could be about his mother. His hope that he'll be able to easily find out what happened to her back in Poland gets smaller as each one is revealed to be about another woman entirely. Either they were born too long ago to be his mom, or they never lived in the European country.

Eventually, Stiles is forced to concede that he's either missing something obvious—highly unlikely—or that there's just nothing to find. He slams the laptop shut and runs his hands down his face, letting out a loud groan of annoyance that causes Derek to stop reading and look over at him in concern.

"Everything OK?" Derek asks slowly, not wanting to accidentally set Stiles off. He carefully closes the book in his lap before placing it on the small table that sits between them.

Flopping his head back, Stiles sighs deeply before answering. "Yeah... I was seeing if I could find anything online about my mom's old life, but nope, there's nothing. Absolutely nothing," he mumbles, wondering where he can go from there. "I guess it makes sense; Deaton said she was running from something, so if you're planning on changing your name and moving to another country, wiping out every trace of your previous existence seems like a pretty good way to go to me." His stomach rumbling, he takes his laptop and his mother's old diary and heads back downstairs with Derek trailing along behind. After dumping both things in the living room, he proceeds into the kitchen and begins ferreting through the cupboards for something to satiate his appetite.

Derek sits on one of the stools around the island and watches Stiles work. "You know, if that book still exists, there must be other stuff out there _somewhere_ for you to find," he offers after a few minutes, wanting to get rid of the dejected expression on his mate's face.

"I hope you're right," Stiles replies, getting out the ingredients for burritos. He still has to check through all of his mother's old things upstairs, and he prays that he works up the courage to do so by the time they're done with dinner. When the food is ready a short while later, they take it through to the living room to eat in front of the television, neither one really speaking. If Derek can tell that his mind is still focused on other things, he's grateful to the man for not calling him out on it and just accepting that he needs time. His mate really is perfect.

The rest of the afternoon and the evening flies by before they know it. Derek goes up to bed a little earlier than usual, worn out because his day has been a taxing one and because he didn't get any sleep the night before.

This leaves Stiles to stew alone in his curiosity downstairs.

The teen repeatedly talks himself out of actually going to investigate what he saw in his vision the previous night, his nerve crumbling into nothing every time he gets up from the sofa with the intention of finally putting himself out of his misery. This goes on for quite a while, until it gets close to midnight and his eyes begin to droop. Derek is already asleep when he gets up to their bedroom, and it's when he's brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the mirror that he decides he's just being stupid. Spitting the toothpaste in his mouth down the drain, he storms back out into the hallway and doesn't stop until he reaches the other end. Swallowing tightly and giving himself one last pep talk, he finally bites the bullet, turning the knob and entering the room.

All of his parents' things are split up on opposite sides, which makes it a lot easier for Stiles to sort through it all. His dad's death is still too fresh for him to give the left side of the room more than a passing glance, so he sits down in the middle of the hardwood floor and pulls the first of his mother's boxes closer before ripping off the tape. "No going back now..." he breathes, his hands shaking as he pulls back the flaps and looks down at the things held within.

One by one, Stiles goes through all of the boxes containing his mother's old possessions. He's surprised that he holds himself together reasonably well, the ache in his chest remaining bearable.

The smell of his mother's old perfume wafts up in his face when he opens the fourth box, and he finds the half-empty bottle right at the bottom, tucked into one of the corners. Since the woman didn't wear it near the end of her life, the scent brings back nothing but good memories. He actually leaves the bottle out to keep, planning on leaving it on the dresser in his and Derek's bedroom to use any time he needs a little cheering up and the alpha isn't around to help. Even though he has yet to come across anything with any relevance to his mother's old life, he's still glad he's finally sorting through all of her stuff. It feels incredibly cathartic, and he can't wait until enough time has passed and feels comfortable doing this with his dad's things as well.

After putting his mother's dresses back inside of their box, the last one, Stiles smiles sadly to himself and makes to get up from the floor and call it a day. As he nears the door, however, he catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye. It's an old trunk, hidden at the back of the room with his dad's things. He doesn't recognise it, but the floral pattern makes him think it must've gotten put there by mistake.

Pulling the trunk out so that he can get a better look, he runs his fingers along the edges and knows instinctively that this is what his dream was trying to tell him about.

Undoing the clasps, Stiles' tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth as he flips open the lid and stares down at what's inside. He's a little confused at first when he just finds more clothes, but after pulling them all out to see what else is underneath, he finds the smallest groove at the edge of the very bottom. Wedging his fingernails inside, he gives it a little tug and frowns when nothing gives at first. A couple more tries yield the same results, but when he lines his free hand up with where his fingers are inside, he's sure there's something hidden beneath. It's not much of a gap, just a few centimetres, but it's enough to ramp his curiosity up to new levels now that he's so close to something concrete.

Inspecting the trunk more closely, Stiles tries to find some sort of switch or catch that'll release the false bottom and give him access to whatever remains of his mother's past life she felt were important enough to keep with her.

"Ugh, come on, mom! You owe me this!" Stiles grits out between his teeth, getting frustrated when he still can't figure out how to get inside. Almost as if those were the magic words, he feels something surge beneath the hand he still has pressed to the bottom of the trunk, like a spark of electricity. Flailing backward in shock, he pauses for a moment in wonder when he sees that the bottom appears loose now. Moving slowly, he pulls it out and stares at what's revealed.

The rest of the trunk is filled with what looks like mountain ash. His mother obviously wanted to protect whatever's there, so Stiles is cautious as he sticks his hand inside once more, burying his fingers in the silvery-grey powder and searching through it until they make contact with something.

Blowing the ash from its surface, Stiles pulls out a thick book that looks similar to the one still downstairs on the coffee table. Looking at the first couple of pages, he finds that it's the next one of his mother's diaries, chronicling her teenage years. Along with that, he finds two more books, one written by his mother in her early twenties and another written by a woman who's name he doesn't recognise at first. It seems familiar, though, and after a couple of minutes spent wracking his brain, he remembers why. The third book belonged to his grandmother, but it's only filled halfway with writing. The last entry is dated in the middle of 1988, six years before his birth. If that's around the same time the woman died, he guesses it solves the mystery of why he's never met her.

Stiles has never even really heard that much about his grandmother, and since his mother was allegedly running from some great disaster or tragedy, he supposes it's a possibility that her own mother was part of it and that's why she didn't talk about her often.

In fact, looking back on his childhood now, Stiles realises that he never heard his mother talk about any of her relatives or her youth, and because of his grief after she died, his dad never did either.

He's been living this blissfully ignorant life for years, the woman only existing as the perfect mother he saw her as. It's a bit of a shock to Stiles to have the blindfold pulled off so suddenly. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he checks one last time for anything else hidden within the mountain ash and finds something else right at the very bottom, something very thin. Pulling that out, too, his heart stops when he sees that it's a sealed envelope, on the back of which his name is written—' _To my little Stiles_ '. He knows that handwriting. Dropping everything else, he tears into the envelope and takes out the letter within before unfolding the paper and beginning to read.


	13. Letters

Soon after leaving Stiles and Derek's house with the rest of the pack, Scott is preparing for his next shift helping Deaton at the veterinary clinic. Allison and Kira have both gone to the huntress's house to wait until he finishes a few hours later.

Hopping on his bike, Scott eases awkwardly out of the driveway after waving a quick goodbye to his mother, who is busy getting ready for her own shift at the hospital. The ride to the clinic isn't a very long or exciting one, so when he comes to a stop in the parking lot around the back of the building and pulls his helmet off, he's excited to get started. Locking his bike up, he steps up to the door and frowns when he scents something strange in the air. Looking around, it takes him a second to pinpoint where the odd odour comes from because the wind keeps blowing in different directions, but when he does, he crouches down low to the ground and inspects the source more closely.

Reaching out a tentative hand, Scott touches the metal embedded in the gravel with his index finger, a little worried that he'll find it's still hot and that he'll end up burning himself. When nothing of the sort happens, he grows a bit bolder, prodding the lump with more confidence.

Wondering where on earth the melted metal came from, he makes to stand again and freezes halfway to his feet when his eyes catch on the door handle.

Tilting his head to the side, Scott is immediately put on edge at the realisation that someone has broken into the clinic. He can't detect a trail of anybody else's scent in the area, neither new or old, because the air is too polluted with a metallic tang that has begun to irritate his nose. Pushing the door open fully, the wood knocking gently against the wall inside, he steps into the building and keeps his ears open for any hushed whispering or the scuffing of shoes on the hard floor. He doesn't pick up on anything like that, though, so he steps further into the examination room and looks over the countertops and the metal table, frowning when he sees that several of the cupboards have been left open and that there are a multitude of books strewn haphazardly about the place.

Having had the previous week off, Scott doesn't immediately jump to conclusions because it's been a while since he was last there. He pulls out his phone and dials Deaton's number, guessing and hoping that there'll be a reasonable explanation for the strangeness.

When all he gets is the vet's voicemail, Scott finally allows himself to get a little worried. He hasn't seen the man all week, but he knows that Stiles would've had a training session the previous weekend.

Calling his best friend now, Scott taps his foot on the ground anxiously as he waits for an answer, the sound of the phone ringing in his ear quickly getting annoying. Unfortunately, no one picks up the call on the other end of the line, so when he hears Stiles' cheery voicemail message begin to play, he curses angrily and ends the call. Sliding his phone back inside his pocket, he walks through to the waiting room and sees that the phone behind the front desk is lit up with a multitude of red flashing lights.

Hitting the button to get the first message to play, Scott listens intently to person after person, all of them wanting to know why Deaton didn't show up for their respective appointments to get their pets fixed up. When the last message finishes, he stands there in silence, his mind racing. He doesn't want to jinx them, but he supposes it has been quite a long time since the pack last faced any life-threatening danger. The current situation is quite similar to what happened just a year previous, when Jennifer Blake abducted Deaton to use him in one of her twisted sacrifices. He hopes nothing like that is happening again. Guessing that there's no point in him staying at the clinic with no work to do, he heads back to his bike and rides as far as he can into the preserve, in the direction of the Nemeton. He wants to check on it just in case.

Walking the rest of the way when the ground gets too hilly for his bike to handle safely, Scott reaches the large tree stump quickly. He doesn't think it's likely that anything would be out of the place even if there _was_ some new plot to kill them all, but he feels marginally better when he sees it with his own eyes, regardless of that fact.

The only thing that's changed since the last time Scott saw the Nemeton is that there are several small rings of what looks like dried wax running in a circle around the outside of the stump. He remembers Stiles telling him briefly about having training there once, which offers all the explanation he needs to shrug and walk away again. He checks what's left of the root cellar as well before going back to his bike, wanting to be thorough.

Sending off a text to everyone in the pack, Scott asks whether any of them have heard from Deaton in the past week.

He's worried for his boss, but because the only thing he has to go on is his absence and the melted door handle, Scott doesn't announce that he thinks something is amiss just yet, not wanting to get everybody worked up if it turns out he's wrong.

* * *

_\- Saturday, September 1st, 2012 -_

Derek knows something isn't right as soon as he wakes up from an uneasy sleep. When he glances sideways, the clock tells him that it's close to two in the morning, but from the looks of things, Stiles hasn't been to bed at all yet. The other side of the mattress is cold and the sheets aren't messed up at all. Wondering what's keeping the teen so busy, he flings back the sheets tiredly and walks out into the hall, rubbing at his eyes as he listens closely to his surroundings in order to locate his mate. There's a small ache right in the centre of his chest, something that feels like grief and betrayal. Derek is familiar enough with his and Stiles' mating bond now that he knows the emotions don't belong to him, especially not since they're coming through so muted. His own concern easily overshadowing Stiles' emotions, he listens more closely and frowns when he hears sniffling coming from the other end of the hall.

Stepping toward the sound, Derek's confusion grows when he sees just what room Stiles is inside. "Stiles? What are you doing in here?" he asks as he steps through the doorway and over to the teen. His eyes widen when he gets a look at his mate's face.

Tears are running in streams down Stiles' cheeks, and stares seemingly sightlessly down at a piece of paper in his lap.

Jumping when he feels a hand on his shoulder, Stiles looks up at Derek in shock for a second before wiping hastily at his eyes, using the long sleeves of his plaid overshirt to rid his cheeks of wetness. "Hey, Der. What's up?" he croaks, his voice cracking. He was so caught up in his own head, mulling over the words in his mother's letter again and again, that he didn't hear Derek enter the room.

"I should be asking you that..." Derek replies, closing the remaining distance between them and kneeling down next to Stiles. He cleans off the tears the teen didn't catch and looks around the room, noting the open trunk in front of them—he recoils slightly when he sees the sheer amount of mountain ash within—and the way all of the boxes seem out of place, like they've been looked through recently. The messy ball of used parcel tape stuck the floor a couple of feet away supports this theory. "What's got you so upset, love?" He's worried when Stiles doesn't really answer him. Instead, the teen just holds out his hand and offers him the piece of paper that was in his lap.

After checking to make sure his mate is OK, or at least that he's no longer crying, Derek looks over the words carefully. As he reads, he begins to understand why he found Stiles in the state he did:

' _Stiles,_

_I'm writing this knowing that I have mere months left to live at best. If and when you find this, I'll probably be long gone and I guess that'll mean you've been introduced to the supernatural world and you probably know at least some of the secrets I've been keeping from you all these years. I hope that by now you've gone to Talia Hale to seek her help, because I know she'd do everything in her power to make the transition easier on you, as would the rest of her family. There's a good reason for that, one I'll get into later on in this letter, but for now, I want to preface all of this by begging you not to be too mad at me for what you're about to read here. This isn't how I wanted things to go, but it's too late to do anything about that now. The most I can do is try to make you understand why I did what I did, and the events that lead to me making the decisions I made._

_I'm not who you think I am. I'm not who your dad thinks I am. I've lied to both of you for as long I've known you, and I'm sorry for that, but I felt it was necessary at the time._

_My real name is Cesia Kowalczyk. I'm sure you've wondered at some point why it is you've never met anyone from my side of the family. There's a simple answer for that: they weren't ever alive for you to meet. I don't know how much you already know, so I'm just going to cover everything._

_You come from a long line of witches back in Poland, a large coven that was very close. We all loved each other dearly. I grew up learning anything and everything I could about magic. Whatever I could get my hands on, I did, if my mother let me, of course. Everything about my life then was perfect, like it was again after I met your dad and we had you. My mother and my aunt Sonia pretty much ran things for the whole coven, the whole town, even. They were so strong, and everybody looked up to them because of this. Whenever anyone had a problem, those were the two they asked for help._

_After a while, my aunt had an affair with someone in the village, a man named Alek. I don't think anyone knew about it, not even my mother, and the only reason I know is because I caught them together once. She begged me not to tell anyone, and I've kept that secret until this moment. Soon enough, she got pregnant and left before a scandal could break out._

_As the years went by, I stayed in contact with her. She'd moved to America and started her life over, gotten a fresh start. After the birth, she even sent me photos of who I guess are your first cousins, once removed._

_Eventually, the letters stopped. I didn't know why my aunt stopped writing to me for the longest time, but when I turned eighteen and was finally allowed more freedom, I looked into it and found out that she'd gotten into some trouble, enough that her sons were taken away from her to protect them. It must have messed her up quite a bit, because when she got out of prison after years of incarceration, she went looking for someone to blame so that she could give them her own brand of what she felt was justice. That someone just happened to be Alek, the father of her children. One day, out of the blue, she showed back up in our little town. She was so angry and hated every single one of us._

_She was so different...everything about her. Perhaps the loss of her children really did drive her mad, I don't know, but whatever happened in her mind must've been big. No one could've predicted what happened next._

_Sonia was so strong. My mother never even stood a chance because she would've never dared use the magic her sister used. One minute, my mother was there, alive and well, and the next, she was dead, lying on the floor with bloody eyes and an expression of agony frozen on her face. I don't know why my aunt spared me—maybe it was because I kept her secret, or because we kept correspondence in those years after she left and she had a soft spot for me. Whatever the reason, I was the only person in my village who wasn't killed that day._

_After saving Alek for last and making him scream for what seemed like hours, she killed herself, too, leaving me all alone to try and pick up the pieces._

_The memories of that day were too painful for me to stay and try to rebuild the life I had. I needed to do what my aunt did, to seek my own fresh start. I moved to America in her footsteps, to a little town in California called Beacon Hills. I didn't want a single reminder of my old life, so after getting settled, I bound my powers. I'd seen what magic could do in the wrong hands, and I didn't want the temptation. I knew now that the potential for great evil ran in my veins, too. Soon after, I introduced myself to the local pack, the Hales. You might know some of their children from around school, Laura, Derek and Cora, I think are their names. I explained my situation as best I could and asked to be kept in the know about any supernatural goings-on in town so that I could run if need be._

_If you haven't found this out already—though because you broke the protection spell I put on my trunk, I guess you have—then I suppose this'll come as something of a shock: you also have some degree of magic within you. I'm not sure how much because it varies from person to person, but I guess you'd be fairly strong just like your grandmother was. Shortly after you were born, I unbound my powers for a short while so that I could bind yours as well._

_I didn't want you to have to deal with any of this, but when I die, the binding spell that I used will break. This leads me to what I wrote about earlier._

_When you find this, if you haven't already, as I said before, I want you to go to Talia and her family, specifically her brother, Jeremy. He'll be able to help you get a handle on your powers. You can trust him. I didn't find this out until a few years ago, but those once-removed first cousins I mentioned? They're Jeremy and his twin brother, Landon. I don't know how they came to be a part of the Hale family, but it's been a comfort to me these past few years knowing that they're there should I ever need their help. I haven't told them yet who I am, and I guess I never will now. You should, though._

_Now is the part I know will upset you the most. This illness didn't have to happen. I'm slowly losing my mind and I unknowingly did it to myself. The binding spell I used is slowly killing me. I'm not worried about the same thing happening to you, because like I said, that spell will be broken soon enough._

_I wish I could say I didn't put the pieces together until it was too late, but that would be a lie. When I found out, there was still a chance I could've saved myself, but I was too scared to take my magic back, afraid of what I might do after being without it for so long._

_I signed my own death certificate and took myself away from you, and you're still just a child... I'm going to hurt you so much, and I hope you can forgive me for not doing the right thing, for not reversing my spell and staying around for you and your dad. Even now, I'm still too much of a coward to tell either of you about all of this outside of this letter, and I know you probably hate me for it. Please try to remember me as someone who loves you, because I do._ So _much, more than I can put into words. To try and make up for what I've done, I'm putting some things from my old life with this letter, the things I didn't have the heart to get rid of when I left Poland behind. They should help you come to terms with who you are and all you can do._

_Please remember what I said about Talia and Jeremy. I know they'll be good to you._

_Remember I love you._

_Mom_ '

When he finishes the last word, Derek looks back over at Stiles and isn't surprised at all when he sees the anger the teen is trying to conceal without success beneath a mask of impassivity. Folding the letter up again, Derek leaves it on the floor before pulling Stiles up with him as he stands. He leads his mate out of the room and back into their bedroom.

"Are you OK?" Derek asks once he has them both settled in the middle of the mattress. He knows it's a stupid question when Stiles glares at him.

"What do you think? Not only did I just find out that my mom pretty much _chose_ to die and put me and my dad through all of that, but apparently I'm also related to the sick son of a bitch who killed my dad and tried to kill the rest of us a few months ago," Stiles seethes, flopping back and staring up at the ceiling. He hasn't felt such tumultuous emotions in a long time. Anger, betrayal, fear, disbelief, sadness...all of them are at war inside his head and heart until they mix together and he can't differentiate between them anymore. It's confusing. When Derek lies down next to him and pulls him closer, he doesn't protest, but he doesn't lean into the alpha's hold either like he normally would. "Do you think he knew? Landon? Do you think he knew I was his cousin, and that's why he targeted me?"

Derek can sense that Stiles isn't really in the mood to be comforted just yet, so he backs off a little. He remains close in case that changes, though. "I don't know, love... Maybe? I mean, he did go looking for his birth certificate and we never found out why," he replies quietly, wishing he had a better answer.

"Well, I guess I know how I'm spending my Saturday..." Stiles mumbles, already planning on finding out anything and everything he can about Landon's journey to the Hales and around the States.

When Stiles moves to get out of bed again, Derek stops him with a hand around his shoulder. He pulls his mate back and smiles knowingly down at the teen's face when he sees the petulant pout of his lips. "You can do all of that later. For now, you need to get some sleep, so come on," he instructs, pulling off Stiles' shirt and chuckling fondly when the teen calls him a meanie under his breath. Switching off the lamp on his bedside table, Derek wraps his arms tightly around Stiles' body to prevent him from making any more escape attempts later on in the night. He snuggles closer, pressing them together from head to toe with his nose tucked into the back of his mate's neck. Eventually, he sighs with relief when he feels Stiles' body go slack against his, the teen succumbing to exhaustion.

Closing his eyes, Derek tries to follow his own advice and join Stiles in slumber, but he soon finds that he can't. His wolf won't let him. It once again prowls restlessly inside of his head, keeping him awake. Sighing, he resigns himself to another long night and thinks over everything he read in Stiles' mother's letter. Wishing that things would stop happening to turn Stiles' world on its head, he laments the fact that their lives are so chaotic and will probably continue to be for the foreseeable future.

It's the price they pay for living in Beacon Hills.

* * *

Derek stays in bed until Stiles wakes up late the following day. It's gone midday by the time the teen finally opens his eyes, and Derek guesses he slept so long because using his magic to heal Erica and finding out about his mother's past took a lot of energy out of him.

When Stiles doesn't even appear to acknowledge his presence and just gets up straight away to storm right out of the room, Derek frowns, a little hurt but knowing that the teen didn't mean any ill will. He follows and finds Stiles back inside the room containing his parents' things, gathering up the books and the letter he found in his mother's trunk in his arms. "Hey," he greets, stepping cautiously closer to Stiles and trying to catch his eyes with a tentative smile. He's relieved when the teen finally looks at him, startled, his mouth dropping open. He supposes that his mate was so preoccupied with thoughts of researching his mother's past and his connection to Jeremy and Landon that he didn't hear him approach.

"Hi..." Stiles responds quietly, shuffling the books in his arms before closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together in a silent apology that Derek gladly accepts.

Now that he's got a new perspective through well-rested eyes, Stiles is glad that Derek kept him in bed the previous night. With a good night's sleep in his system, he'll be able to better concentrate on what he reads and take everything in. He's curious about what he'll find in his mother's second and third diaries and his grandmother's grimoire. He plans to spend the entire day going through it all with a fine-toothed comb before moving on to his connection to Derek's adoptive uncles.

After they get downstairs and into the kitchen, now fully dressed, Stiles checks his phone and sees that he has an unread text from Scott. He wonders briefly why he didn't hear it come in at the time, but when he looks at the timestamp he realises that Scott sent it around the same time he was reading his mother's letter. He would've been too focused on her words to hear the quiet chime in his pocket. Registering just what the crooked-jawed beta is asking, Stiles breathes out quiet, "Oh," before typing out a quick reply. When Derek asks what's wrong, he glances up at the alpha before looking back down at his phone, waiting for Scott to get back to him. "Deaton's still missing. Scott was supposed to work at the clinic again last night, but Deaton never showed."

Putting the finishing touches on their breakfast, Derek takes a seat next to Stiles before snatching the teen's phone right out of his hand, ignoring Stiles' affronted huff.

To shut his mate up, Derek reaches blindly for a fork and spears a strip of bacon on the end of the tines before sticking it in Stiles' mouth. He smirks when he hears the teen spluttering next to him. When Scott's next text pops up on the screen, he purses his lips when he reads that no one else has apparently heard from the veterinarian recently either.

"I'm gonna see what I can find out about this," Derek announces finally, allowing Stiles to take his phone back. He devours his own breakfast in record time, anxious to locate the teen's elusive teacher. As much as he still distrusts the older man, he knows how essential he is for his mate's emissary training.

"Alright," Stiles accepts, tilting his head to the side to offer his cheek when Derek leans in for a kiss. He watches over his shoulder as the alpha walks out of the room and heads upstairs to get dressed for his day. He hopes his mate finds Deaton, and now that Derek is on the case, he puts his concern for the vet out of his mind and focuses instead of the issue of his mother, Jeremy and Landon. He knows from past conversations with Derek that the man's grandparents didn't go that far away to adopt the twins, so he guesses the agency or orphanage they used must have been pretty close, at least within state lines. Nodding to himself, he chews his last piece of bacon quickly before dumping both his and Derek's plates in the sink and following the alpha upstairs to get dressed as well. He passes his wolf in the hallway, where they bid each other goodbye.

The sound of the front door opening and closing reaches Stiles' ears as he shimmies into a pair of chinos that Lydia picked out for him in one of their annoyingly frequent shopping trips.

After sending off a text to Danny asking whether he's still at home and getting a 'yes' in reply, Stiles is quick leave the house as well. He takes his mother's letter and her first journal with him and locks the door behind himself before hopping into his car.

Pressing his foot down on the pedal to make the drive over to the Hawaiian's house faster than it ordinarily would be—he actually breaks the speed limit for a while, but luckily, nobody sees anything—Stiles comes to screeching stop on the curb outside before rushing up to the front door and knocking impatiently. Danny's father opens it. They exchange pleasantries before he's allowed inside, and when he is, he immediately takes the stairs two at a time and barges into Danny's room without warning. He guessed that the Hawaiian knew he was coming from his text, anyway.

"Hey, Stiles," Danny greets when his door is pushed open. He's sat in the middle of his bed with his computer open in his lap, typing away on an essay that's due the following week. His fingers pause over the keys when he notices what Stiles has in his hands, the strange scent of it all wafting over to him as the other boy steps fully into the room and shuts the door again. "What's all that?"

"I'm glad you asked that, Danny-boy," Stiles answers, flopping down next to Danny on the bed without waiting for an invitation. Being in the same pack basically destroyed all those boundaries long ago.

When Danny just looks at him in confusion, Stiles pulls his mother's letter out of its envelope and hands it over, busying himself with her journal while the muscled boy reads. He smiles knowingly to himself when Danny releases several shocked gasps over the next few minutes. "Yup."

"This is unbelievable!" Danny exclaims, staring at Stiles in shock. Once again, he's forced to wonder how much easier his life would probably be if, at the start of the year, he'd just stayed out of whatever secrets Jackson and Lydia were keeping from him and moved on from them. It would certainly be nice not to have to worry about all the supernatural goings-on in town or family secrets or all his friends dying, but on the other hand, he'd miss them, too. It's a fleeting thought, one he's had many, _many_ times in the past, and it always gets the same answer. "Where the hell did you find this?"

"In my mom's stuff. Now, I want you to see if you can find out anything about Jeremy and Landon's history. Why exactly they were taken away from their mom, where they were adopted from, when, etc. etc.," Stiles instructs, shifting around a little bit until he can see the computer screen. He's pleased when Danny doesn't argue with him, minimising his essay and opening his Internet browser instead. He still doesn't really follow everything that Danny does, but a few minutes later, a bunch of results pop up on the screen. All the sections that mention Jeremy or Landon Kowalczyk are highlighted, so they work through them all one by one until they reach the last result. The first thing that pops up is the arrest report for a Sonia Kowalczyk. The document says that the woman was apparently seen drunk quite frequently in the days leading up to her arrest, and that her neighbours called the police one morning when they heard shouting coming from her place of residence.

Jeremy and Landon were found in their bedroom when the police arrived, looking terrified and malnourished. They were only two years old at the time, and doctors found several bruises and small cuts on their bodies when they were brought to the local hospital for a cursory examination. There was even evidence of an old break in one of Landon's arms when an x-way was done just in case.

Obviously, after that, the two children were removed from Sonia's house and all parental ties were cut. The twins were put into foster care, where they remained for several months until Deirdre and Frank Hale appeared and adopted them out of the blue.

"That's so sad..." Stiles says with a frown after he finishes reading, not liking the fact that he's related to someone who would abuse their children in such a way.

He can't say it really surprises him that Sonia was capable of something so terrible, though, since everything else he heard about her up until that point didn't exactly painted her in the best light. He feels glad she didn't get away with it, while wishing at the same time that it never happened at all. Getting adopted into the Hale family was probably the best outcome for Jeremy and Landon, and he wonders if it was just a coincidence that Frank and Deirdre chose them or if they somehow knew of the twins' magical heritage. Knowing his life, Stiles guesses it's the latter.

"This whole thing just keeps getting more and more twisted, I swear," Danny comments, patting Stiles lightly on the knee in a pathetic attempt to comfort. It's not really his forte.

After getting Danny to print out all of that information so he can show Derek later, Stiles folds all the sheets of paper up and slips them inside his mother's old journal for safekeeping. "Alright...let's move on to finding out what happened to my mom's old town," he prods, paying no mind when the doorbell rings downstairs. "I mean, I know Sonia went on a rampage and killed everyone, but there must've been _something_ left of it all. People in the surrounding towns must have noticed all of them dying suddenly-" His words are cut off when the bedroom door opens again as Isaac steps through it. The beta pauses in the doorway when their eyes meet, and Stiles blinks up at him dumbly before offering a small wave and pushing his mother's journal behind him as if it's a secret. He guesses it is, since he doesn't really want anyone else knowing about it just yet, not until he's ready.

"Hey, Stiles. What are you doing here?" Isaac asks eventually, ending the long, awkward silence that had filled the room. Since the bed is already taken, he opts for Danny's desk chair instead.

"Uh, you know, just seeking the help of our resident hacker," Stiles replies, shrugging and trying to look nonchalant. When Isaac just continues to stare at him, he doesn't think he's successful. "So, Danny-boy, ol' buddy, ol' pal...see if you can find anything regarding what we were talking about before and email it all to me, yeah?" With that, he hops up off the bed and rushes from the room, stopping briefly to ruffle Isaac's hair before disappearing through the door at lightning speed.

Isaac watches Stiles go with wide eyes, baffled and a little worried, before claiming the now-free spot on the bed next to Danny. It doesn't escape his notice that his boyfriend is quick to close whatever he has open on his laptop. "Do I wanna know?" he enquires, lying back so that his head is resting on Danny's comfy pillows.

"Mmm, probably not," Danny admits easily, smirking when Isaac kicks him in the leg. After shutting down his laptop and placing it delicately on the floor, he flops down next to the curly-haired beta and looks up at him innocently. "Now, to what do I owe this surprise visit, hmm?" He doesn't get a chance to say anything more, not when Isaac pounces on him with a loud giggle and starts ripping off his shirt. He quickly gets with the programme, helping the other beta divest them both of their clothing before diving under the covers. All in all, it's a pretty good start to the afternoon.

* * *

Derek spends most of the afternoon looking all over town for any traces of Deaton. He doesn't find anything that tells him where the older man could've gone, which only serves to exacerbate his concern for the vet's safety.

Not even a quick visit to his sister, Marin Morrell, yielded any results. It'd been a long time since he laid eyes on the woman, and the ex-emissary has apparently continued to divide her time working as a counsellor at the high school and as a psychiatrist at Eichen House, even after Stiles escaped under the Nogitsune's influence and she didn't really have any reason to continue on there. He asked her why, but, of course, she decided to be as frustratingly vague as her brother. She also didn't show even the slightest hint of worry for the man, leading Derek to leave the place thinking that the woman is a sociopath, a thought he obviously didn't vocalise.

After briefly contemplating the idea that Deaton has simply gone out of town for a while, Derek rules it out as unlikely, guessing—or rather, hoping—that the vet would tell him or Stiles about it since it would interfere with the latter's training.

Deciding that he doesn't really have any other options left, Derek gets back in his car and drives away from Eichen House as fast as he can.

He wants to put as much distance between himself and that horrid place as possible. The scent of suffering and madness was so pungent that it clogged up his nose until it got hard to breathe without choking on the air. He heads in the direction of the sheriff's station, and when he pulls up across the street from the familiar building, he feels a little strange about being there again. The place holds a lot of bad memories that he can't help recalling as he walks inside, from the kanima paralysing him and killing several deputies under Matt Daehler's control, to when he was arrested with Chris Argent and he saved the ex-hunter from the bomb the Nogitsune mailed to Sheriff Stilinski. He hasn't seen the interior at all since that last incident.

As luck would have it, Derek finds Jordan Parrish pinning something up on the noticeboard in the reception area when he walks inside. The deputy turns in his direction, curious, and smiles brightly at him when he sees just who the new arrival is.

"Derek! I wasn't expecting to see you here today!" Parrish greets happily, patting Derek on the back and wrapping a casual arm around his shoulders.

Barely resisting the urge to pull away from the unwelcome touch, Derek allows himself to be shepherded further into the station, taking the seat in front of Parrish's desk when the deputy offers it. He makes himself as comfortable as he can before deciding to get straight to the point of his visit. Parrish proceeds to ramble about nothing in a way that's surprisingly similar to Stiles the minute he sits down, so Derek cuts off the other man's babbling—he was talking too fast for him to understand a word, anyway—by clearing his throat loudly and levelling the well-meaning deputy with an impatient look. "I apologise if I'm coming off rude, but I'm not here just to say 'hi'," he begins, squaring his shoulders. "I need to file a missing persons report."

* * *

When Isaac leaves Danny's house several hours later, he doesn't immediately notice that anything strange is happening. It's only when he's halfway back to the McCalls' that he begins cottoning on to the fact.

A gruff-looking man walks in the opposite direction, and when he and Isaac pass each other, the stranger doesn't even acknowledge the beta's existence. Isaac rubs at his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the impact when they bumped into each other, and glares after the man, thinking that some people are far too rude to be allowed in public. It's when the same thing happens two more times, the third with an unassuming elderly lady, that he finally realises something's not right.

Opening the McCalls' front door, Isaac steps inside and breathes out a sigh of relief at being in such familiar surroundings. The house has felt more like a home to him than anything he's had for years, and just being back there calms him down immensely. He can hear the sound of laughter coming from upstairs, so after getting himself a glass of water—his time with Danny really made him thirsty—he jogs up the stairs and follows it. It leads him predictably to Scott's room, and after taking a second to make sure he doesn't hear or smell anything unsavoury, he pushes open the door and steps inside to join the other beta and who he assumes is Allison. "Hey, you two," he greets as he kicks the door back so that it's ajar, "whatcha up to?" He frowns when Scott and Allison continue to talk quietly to each other beneath the covers on the bed, their heads close together. "Uh, guys?"

It's like neither of the two lovebirds can see or hear him. Isaac begins to panic a little, yelling both of their names to see if the increased volume will make a difference. It doesn't.

Moving forward, Isaac grabs a hold of Scott's duvet cover and yanks it down, averting his eyes when he's immediately met with more naked flesh than he ever wanted to see. Still, it does have the desired effect, sort of. Allison squeals in horror as both she and Scott jump up from the mattress and look around the room with wide eyes.

"What the hell was that?!" Allison exclaims, holding an arm across her breasts and shoving her other hand between her legs to hide her shame. "Who's there?!" She takes tiny steps sideways until she reaches her clothes, which lay in a pile in front of Scott's dresser. She puts them on faster than she ever remembers doing before, faster even than the one time she wasn't careful enough and her dad caught her and Scott together. The ex-hunter didn't let that one go for a while, and he still gives Scott some serious side-eye whenever the beta is visiting.

Scott focuses his senses and tilts his head to the side when he finds he cannot detect anyone else in the room. "I can't feel anyone..." he whispers, freaked out.

"OK, I don't care! I'm getting out of here right the fuck now!" Allison shouts, grabbing her phone from the nightstand and dashing from the room. She doesn't stop until she gets outside and into her car, where Scott hops right in the passenger seat next to her.

Isaac stands back up in Scott's room, baffled at the strange turn of events. Apparently, he can affect inanimate objects with other people noticing, but going off of what happened earlier on the street, when he actually touches another person directly, it's as if they feel nothing. He wonders if it's just Scott and Allison who are affected by whatever is going on with him, so to get an answer, he leaves the house again as well, heading in the direction of Stiles and Derek's. It takes him a while, and he laments the fact that he's too poor to afford a car for the entirety of the long journey. By the time the large house comes into view, his feet are aching, but the sight of Stiles' bright blue Camaro parked up outside overshadows his discomfort with relief. His pack mom will know what to do, he's sure.

Isaac finds the human teen sitting in the living room with his phone in his hands, the television on in the background even though he doesn't appear to be paying attention to it at all. Swallowing and preparing himself for the worst outcome, he steps through from the foyer and walks around the sofa so that he's standing in front of Stiles.

"Stiles," Isaac asks quietly, taking a seat on the coffee table next to what he assumes is the other boy's cup of cold coffee, "can you hear me?"

Just like he guessed would happen, Stiles doesn't so much as twitch, completely unaware that there's another person in the room. It's a disheartening find even though he was expecting it. Leaning forward, he rests his chin in his hand as he contemplates what to do next.

Thinking over the few options he has to get through to Stiles, Isaac quickly takes out his phone and types a short text to the human teen, hoping he won't see it as a joke—' _I have a problem: I'm sitting right in front of you and I seem to be invisible._ ' He waits anxiously for the message to come through on Stiles' cell, biting his nails and wiggling in place a little bit with nervous energy. It's a good thing Stiles seems so focused on his own phone, because a few seconds later when it beeps and the message pops up at the top of the screen, the other boy sees it immediately.

Freezing when he reads what Isaac has sent him, Stiles' mouth drops open and his head snaps up. His eyes are wide as he surveys the room, craning his head around to look over the back of the sofa to be safe.

Just to be sure, Stiles replies—' _If this is legit, how many fingers am I holding up?_ '—and holds his hand up in front of his chest.

He makes sure not to raise his fingers too high just in case this is all an elaborate prank and Isaac is actually outside, looking in through the window or something. He wouldn't put it past the curly-haired beta to do something like that, not if Erica or Danny is involved, too. The blonde and the Hawaiian really are bad influences on his favourite beta sometimes, though he'd be lying if he said it didn't warm his heart to see Isaac enjoying himself and having careless fun like every other teenager.

When his phone beeps again a few seconds later, the short message reads, ' _Three._ ' Stiles sighs. "Hmm...wait here a second, OK? I'm gonna call Derek and get him back here so he can help," he instructs, standing. He pauses briefly as if he expects to hear a response.

Kicking himself back into gear, Stiles leaves Isaac where he is and heads up to the library on the third floor.

As he browses through the various books on magic lining the shelves, he can't help thinking that the frequency with which he needs to be up there seems to be increasing substantially. He wonders if what happened to Erica the previous afternoon and what's happening to Isaac now are connected in any way, not knowing what he'll do if the answer turns out to be 'yes'.

Dialling Derek's number, Stiles taps his foot as he waits for the call to connect. When the alpha's rumbling voice answers a few seconds later, he keeps things concise. "You need to get back here ASAP," he demands, not even returning his mate's 'Hello' and just jumping straight to the point. "Apparently, Isaac is invisible. I can't even hear him. He had to get my attention by texting me," he hears Derek inhale quickly, like he's about to interrupt, "and before you say anything, no, I don't think he's just pulling my leg. I already checked, and I believe him." He hangs up soon after, when Derek has promised that he'll be home within half an hour. Now that he's not distracted, Stiles tries to remember a time when he's come across a mention of invisibility in any of the books in front of him.

When he doesn't come up with much, he just pulls out books at random and looks through the contents on the first page. In some of them, the contents is just a brief handwritten list provided by Deaton, the vet no doubt having thought it would be easier for him to learn if he knew exactly what was in each tome without having to skim through all the pages.

Stiles finds a couple of entries in the books on the subject, so he bookmarks the pages by folding down the top corners before taking them back downstairs.

"OK...you probably already heard, but Derek should be here soon, so don't worry; we'll get to the bottom of whatever's happening to you," Stiles assures when he reenters the living room. He hesitates before taking a seat on the sofa, wondering whether Isaac has moved from the coffee table in his absence for something more comfy. He doesn't want to sit on the beta.

"I'm gonna sit here, so if you're there, you might wanna move..." he tells the room slowly, feeling like a complete moron.

Isaac rolls his eyes, having not left his spot on the coffee table to avoid a situation just like the one Stiles is apparently afraid of. He needn't have bothered, it seems.

Soon enough and as promised, Derek comes through the front door twenty-two minutes later, looking tired and annoyed. Stiles doesn't blame the man. He pats the cushion next to him in invitation, the corner of his mouth twitching when Derek practically throws himself down in the proffered seat. "Right... The only way we can talk seems to be through writing, so... Isaac, why don't you run us through everything that happened today so we can see if there's anything that sticks out as strange or whatever?" he asks, looking straight ahead at the empty air above the coffee table. He supposes it's better he just look in one spot instead of glancing around the room constantly. His eyes will probably thank him later.

After a minute of waiting, another text comes in on Stiles' phone, which he reads aloud:

" ' _I was with Danny all morning and nothing seemed off. After I left, several people bumped into me, but they acted as if nothing happened. I just chalked it up to them being rude assholes, but when I got back to Scott's and he didn't notice me, I realised something was wrong. That's when I came here._ '

"Alright...this _is_ a pickle," Stiles muses, resting his phone on his thigh as he thinks. "Can you read this?" He takes one of the books he brought downstairs and puts it on the coffee table, watching with fascination as it seems to turn and open on its own. "I guess so. Just check through that for any mentions of invisibility spells or curses or whatever. Hopefully we'll find something. If not, then I guess we'll have to go to Holly... Who knows? Maybe Elizabeth will be willing to offer a hand, as well."

Almost a whole hour later, Derek looks up in shock when the book Isaac was reading is pushed off the coffee table to land with a loud thump on the floor.

"I know it's frustrating, puppy, but try not to damage the books, yeah?" Stiles asks carefully, holding his hands out as if he's talking to a frightened animal. He understands the beta's sour mood, getting annoyed himself at the lack of results and he's not even the one in trouble in that moment. "Let's just call this a day and go see Elizabeth, hmm? Decades of studying witchcraft ought to make her useful for something, right?" He laughs halfheartedly at his own joke, the sound tapering off into a sigh when the front door is ripped open in the foyer, the wood banging and rebounding off the wall.

Following Isaac outside, Stiles waits for Derek to lock the front door before traipsing down the steps and heading over to his car. "Backseat, puppy!" he calls, hoping that the smell of sex has dissipated enough so that it doesn't bother the beta too much.

When they're all buckled in, Stiles begins driving them in the direction of the Alexander household, glancing over at Derek and trying to fill the silence when it remains awkward. "I forgot to ask, but how did your search for Deaton go? Not good, I'm guessing?" he asks, frowning in disappointment and resignation when the alpha confirms his assumption. " _Great_... So now we have _that_ to deal with as well. Does it ever end? No? OK." If the vet isn't actually in any danger, whenever they next see each other, he's going to punch the man so hard in the face for putting him through the needless stress.

"Mmm... His sister was absolutely useless, which I was kind of expecting anyway. Apparently, they haven't really kept in contact recently, and she didn't show any concern when I told her he's missing, so..." Derek explains, Morrell's nonchalant attitude to family still bugging him.

"You seriously didn't find any trace of him? Not a single whiff or...?" Stiles asks a few seconds later, turning the last corner and pulling to a stop outside Charlie and Elizabeth's house.

Derek shakes his head as he gets out of the car. "Nope. I'd just finished getting Parrish to file a missing persons when you called me about Isaac," he reveals, following Stiles up the front steps. The sound of a third car door opening and closing behind him tells him that Isaac is thankfully doing the same. The force with which the door is slammed shut again tells him the beta's mood hasn't improved during their drive, not that he blames the teen.

About a minute after Stiles raises his fist and knocks on the front door, it swings open to reveal Elizabeth standing on the other side.

The woman's eyes widen when she sees who's waiting on her doorstep. "Stiles, Derek! What a pleasant surprise!" she welcomes, stepping to the side to allow the two entrance. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"Is Charlie here?" Stiles asks before answering Elizabeth's question, wanting to stick to their earlier conversation about keeping the girl in the dark. He doesn't want her to accidentally overhear anything she shouldn't. When Elizabeth shakes her head no, he smiles tightly before heading through to the living room and taking a seat. Derek immediately drops down right next to him. "We've got a little problem. A magical problem, I think. One of our betas, Isaac, has somehow turned invisible...or something. It's more than that, I guess, since we can't hear him or touch him either. He can touch other things, though! Isaac?" He points to an empty glass that sits in the centre of the coffee table and nods at Elizabeth's gasp when it rises into the air seemingly on its own.

Luckily, Isaac seems to have enough sense not to be so careless with the glass as he was with the book earlier, since it gets set down right where he found it without a scratch.

"How did this happen?" Elizabeth asks, dropping down into an armchair and looking as baffled as the rest of them feel. Listening intently as Stiles reads Isaac's text out to her, a deep frown appears on her face as she thinks, grateful when everybody else remains silent after Stiles finishes talking so that she can concentrate. "Why come to me? Don't you have other people who could help that you know better?"

"Don't take offence to this, but...yes, ordinarily I'd just go to our sort-of friend, Deaton, who usually helps whenever we have a problem we can't solve on our own," Stiles answers, sitting forward and leaning his forearms on his knees. "He's not available right now, though, and I figured since you used to be a witch that you might be able to at least point us in the right direction?" He sends a particularly puppy-eyed stare in Elizabeth's direction, hoping for a 'yes'. Being around Scott and Isaac so much must have improved the potency of that particular expression, because the woman immediately nods and gets up from her seat. He settles in again when she tells them to wait as she disappears upstairs.

Coming back into the living room several long minutes later, Elizabeth carries with her an incredibly thick book.

Kneeling down in front of the coffee table, she opens it to a bookmarked page before turning it around so that Stiles and Derek can read the entry. "Even though I don't practice myself anymore, when I moved us here, I kept the more useful spell books I had in case I ever needed them again," Elizabeth explains, sitting on her heels. "I've never heard of a spell that does what you've told me, but the closest thing is there."

Elizabeth points near the bottom of the second page. "This is quite a personal question, so I apologise in advance, but does Isaac have any insecurities, possibly about being lonely or going unnoticed by people he loves?" she asks, smiling to herself when Stiles confirms her theory. "This might be it, then. It's a spell that taps into a person's deepest fears and brings them to life in cruel ways. The counter-spell is pretty tricky, though you should be able to handle it if you're careful. I don't have the ingredients here, unfortunately, since they're pretty specific, but maybe your friend does?"

"I guess we'll see..." Stiles mumbles, memorising the page number before closing and picking up the book. He hands it off to Derek when he realises how heavy it is. "Is it OK if we borrow this?"

Nodding, Elizabeth isn't surprised when Stiles and Derek both make to leave right after. She follows them back to the front door and holds it open a few seconds longer than she thinks is really necessary just to make sure Isaac gets outside as well. "Let me know how it goes, OK?" she yells as the three walk down the pathway to their car.

Looking back over his shoulder and waving, Stiles makes quick work of strapping himself in and peeling off to the veterinary clinic. He's pleased to find the place still looks relatively untouched, though he swallows guiltily and quickly moves on when he comes across the melted lock on his way inside. "OK...let's find all this stuff," he whispers to himself as he opens all the cupboards and begins rifling through all the strange jars inside. Eventually, after an extensive search, he manages to find everything he needs to do the spell, so he arranges it all on the metal examination table in the middle of the room and rereads everything he'll need to do to pull it off. He doesn't want to make a mistake and end up accidentally worsening Isaac's predicament.

When he thinks he understands everything, Stiles unscrews the caps on all the jars and tips their contents' out onto the table.

For his part, Derek takes a seat on one of the stools and just watches his mate work. He feels quite proud that Stiles appears confident enough in his own abilities now to at least make an attempt at curing Isaac. It wasn't that long ago when the teen wouldn't have even dared to think about it.

Adding the last ingredient to a bowl he finds in one of the cupboards, Stiles adds some water to the mixture and stirs it with his finger, allowing his fire powers to come forth until it begins to boil. It's a lucky thing that heat doesn't affect him in any way so long as his powers are active, otherwise he'd scald himself badly as he waits for the concoction to be ready. He watches closely as the liquid gradually changes colour, turning from a rather disgusting brown into a much more pleasant pale orange. He feels as if he's at Hogwarts, mixing potions. Another minute later, the mixture begins thickening, forming into a paste, and this indicates to Stiles that this part of the process is finished.

After cleaning off his finger with a bunch of paper towels he takes from a dispenser on one of the walls, Stiles covers the bowl with both hands and closes his eyes before chanting the spell written inside Elizabeth's book.

"OK...that should do it," Stiles breathes when he finishes incanting, stepping back and slumping against one of the countertops.

Derek senses that Stiles' energy levels have dropped considerably in the past minute, so before his mate has a chance to collapse on the floor or something, he stands and wraps an arm around the teen's waist to keep him upright. He returns Stiles' thankful smile with a small one of his own before turning back to the examination table. "So how does this work?" he enquires for Isaac's sake, since the beta can't ask the question himself, at least not verbally.

"He just has to eat it," Stiles replies quietly, leaning further into Derek's side, "and with some of those ingredients, it ain't gonna be pretty..."

It's quite a surreal thing to watch the paste disappear bit by bit. There are pauses in between each bite as Isaac eats it, and Stiles assumes that the beta is busy trying not to throw it all back up during them. When the last of the paste is gone from the bowl, a few seconds pass before Stiles begins to see a faint outline standing next to the table, the air within it seeming to shimmer as Isaac reappears. With a small flash of light, the beta is fully corporeal once more, his face looking a little green as he clutches his stomach and grimaces. "Thank God that worked!" Stiles exclaims, moving forward and bringing the other boy into a hug, which gets returned immediately.

Catching a glimpse of the pained expression on Isaac's face, Derek moves around to the beta's back and copies Stiles, pressing himself close so that the curly-haired teen is sandwiched between them. It seems to calm Isaac quite a bit, especially when he employs a little pain relief as he pulls away.

"You OK?" Stiles asks when he hears Isaac sniffle quietly into his shoulder, stepping back when the beta drops his arms. He's glad when the other boy nods.

"Yeah... That just wasn't a very nice experience, any part of it," Isaac replies, taking a shuddering breath and wiping away the moisture that had formed in his eyes. He smiles shyly at Stiles when his vision clears. "Thanks." He flicks his eyes over to Derek as well so that the alpha knows he's included in his gratitude as well.

Stiles guides Isaac back outside with a hand on the small of his back, leading him over to his Camaro. "I don't blame you. Elizabeth said the spell was designed to tap into the victim's deepest fears, so it's no wonder it affected you so much," he assures, not wanting Isaac to feel embarrassed about the emotion he displayed in the clinic. When the beta is safely in the backseat of his car, he turns and finds Derek standing next to him expectantly with Elizabeth's book tucked under one arm. "C'mon, Sourwolf... Let's go return that and then we'll head home, 'K?"

They make a quick job of giving Elizabeth her book back. Stiles thanks her profusely for the help and promises to pass her sentiments on to Isaac when she says she hopes he feels better soon. During the drive back to the house, Stiles glances up at the rearview mirror and sees the beta in question sitting rather sadly in the backseat, his forehead resting against the window. This gives him an idea, and as soon as he parks the car and gets out, he texts everybody in the pack and orders them all to gather there as soon as possible. After sending Isaac upstairs to brush his teeth and get cleaned up, Stiles ropes Derek into helping him with his plan, getting the alpha to move the coffee table out of the way and push the sofas back slightly to create more space in the centre of the living room.

Retrieving all the pillows and sheets from the guest bedrooms, Stiles arranges it all artfully in the newly created space, knowing from the snort Derek gives him that the alpha has figured out what he's doing.

The front door opens and the rest of the pack filter through before Isaac reappears. They all look worried at first, which makes Stiles feel guilty about not explaining the situation properly—or at all—in his text, but their expressions quickly clear up when they get a look at what he's done to the living room.

"It's puppy pile time, guys!" Stiles whispers excitedly to them all. "Isaac's had a rough go of it today—I'll explain that later—so I want you all to go get changed into your PJs and meet back down here before he finishes up in the bathroom. C'mon! Off you go!" He shoos them from the room when they don't move immediately, raising an intimidating eyebrow at Jackson when the beta looks like he's going to disobey. Jackson just scoffs at him and follows Lydia up the stairs. Stiles chuckles when he spies Derek trying to slip out into the kitchen. "You, too, Sourwolf. If you cooperate, I'll let you spoon me." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yes, because I totally need your permission to 'spoon' you..." Derek grumbles, shaking his head as he reluctantly does as Stiles instructed.

After Isaac comes downstairs five minutes later, his face lights up when he sees everybody gathered in the living room in the pile of blankets and pillows. He gladly takes his place beside Danny when the Hawaiian pats the spot next to himself.

Stiles smiles and hums in contentment when he sees that Isaac is unable to wipe the delighted expression from his face. "I am _good_ ," he mutters to himself, leaning back into Derek's bare chest when the alpha wraps his arms around his torso. He turns and bites his mate roughly on the ear after Derek laughs at him, smirking when his wolf lets out the most unmanly squeak imaginable. "You're lucky I love you, you dork." He cackles without restraint when Derek blows a raspberry against his cheek in retaliation.


	14. Stranger

_\- Sunday, September 2nd, 2012 -_

The betas leave again early the next morning, with Isaac wrapping Stiles up in a thankful hug before following Danny down the front steps and to his car. The human teen looks on fondly, pleased when he notices the renewed skip in his favourite beta's step. Closing the door with a gentle click, he saunters back through to the living and feels his heart melt when he sees that Derek appears to still be sleeping, ensconced deeply in a pile of blankets and pillows with only the top half of his face peeking out.

Figuring that he has nothing better to do for the time being, Stiles rejoins Derek in the makeshift nest. The spot he occupied just a few minutes before hasn't yet gone cold, and when he slides back into it, Derek reaches for him adorably in his sleep.

Allowing himself to be pulled against his mate's warm, firm body, Stiles knows he'll probably end up overheating pretty quickly in their little cocoon, especially given that the sun is now in the sky. Until that happens, though, he decides to just settle in and enjoy the comfort, turning in Derek's arms until he's facing the alpha instead and can stare to his heart's content at his sleeping face. It's a beautiful sight. Eventually, Derek's nose twitches a couple of times before he snuffles closer and holds him a bit tighter. Experience has taught him that these are signs that his wolf is waking up, so he waits patiently and smiles fondly when sleepy hazel eyes blink open slowly to peer into his own. "Hi," he whispers, bringing their faces closer and kissing Derek on the tip of his nose. His gentle smile turns into a full-blown grin when his wolf practically purrs like a cat and tucks himself into his neck.

Stiles knows he'll never get enough of seeing Derek as open and affectionate as he is whenever they're alone first thing in the morning. Every one of those moments is incredibly precious to him.

"Mmm...you smell nice..." Derek mumbles, his nose pressed just behind Stiles' ear. He smiles when his breaths cause the teen in his arms to giggle, the skin the warm air blows against sensitive and ticklish. "This was a really good idea, y'know, having a massive sleepover down here. You take such good care of the betas... You're the best mate I could have ever asked for."

"You're gonna make me blush," Stiles chuckles awkwardly, a little uncomfortable at getting so many compliments that early in the morning. He appreciates them nevertheless. "You seem to be in a good mood, especially seeing as you haven't had your coffee yet." He wedges one of his legs between Derek's as he runs his right hand up and down the wolf's muscular back. When his mate just hums sleepily into his neck again, he brings his hand to a stop, his palm resting just above the waistband of the alpha's boxer-briefs. "You wouldn't happen to be falling asleep on me again, would you? Did you not get enough last night or something?"

Staying right where he is, Derek sighs into Stiles' warm skin before answering. "Last night was fine," he begins, his voice quiet. "It was the night before that was hell. My wolf wouldn't shut up again."

"You should've told me. Maybe I could've done something to help you," Stiles reprimands softly, turning his head sideways a fraction so that he can press a kiss to Derek's forehead. "I want you to wake me up if that ever happens again, OK? I'm sure we can figure out a way to wear you out or something..." He grinds his hips forward once to get the true meaning of his words across, smirking when his wolf's breath hitches.

"Noted," Derek mumbles at the same time Stiles' phone chirps a few feet away. He whines in protest when the teen tries to extricate himself from his embrace to get it, not wanting to let his mate go just yet. "No! It's my turn to request sleepy morning cuddles..."

Stiles manages to succeed in his escape attempt after a few seconds, after he pries Derek's arms from around his waist. He grins down at his wolf when he gets a look at the almost betrayed pout of his lips. "Relax, Sourwolf. I'm just gonna check it and then I'll be right back in there with you," he assures, ruffling Derek's hair once to make it even messier than it already was before standing and walking over to the sofa. It's still pressed against the wall from the previous night's puppy pile, and Stiles takes a seat on the edge of one of the cushions after locating his phone. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise when he sees the new email that came in a minute before. It's from Danny, the Hawaiian giving him everything he was able to scrounge up on Landon and Jeremy's past. Stiles can't believe he forgot about all of that. There are several attachments, and he glances guiltily down at Derek as he fights the urge to get his laptop and look through them then and there.

"What is it?" Derek asks when Stiles remains silent. He levers himself up on his elbow and peers over the top of his blanket so he can actually see the teen.

Getting up, Stiles steps closer to Derek, the corner of his mouth quirking upward when the alpha holds up the blankets, a clear invitation for him to get back inside their little makeshift den. He doesn't actually make to join his wolf again, though, and his guilt increases when Derek's expression changes, going from expectant to confused and disappointed.

"It's nothing, really... Danny just sent me some more stuff he dug up on Jeremy and Landon," Stiles explains quickly, biting his lip when Derek's face becomes understanding and sympathetic. The disappointment doesn't disappear completely, though. "Would you be mad if I looked through all of this now? I'm like, _super_ curious." He levels Derek with some of his best puppy eyes and feels hopeful when the alpha rolls his eyes and flops back down to the floor, his arms thrown over his head in defeat. A small nod is all the permission Stiles needs, and he pounces on Derek and kisses him passionately to show his gratitude. Their tongues tangle for a few seconds before he pulls away again. "Thanks, Sourwolf. We can pick this back up tonight, yeah?" Feeling devilish, he licks a wet stripe up the side of Derek's face before dashing upstairs to retrieve his laptop, leaving the alpha downstairs to catch up on the few hours of sleep he's still missing.

Stiles hears Derek's spluttering all the way from the second floor, and he can't get rid of the wide smile that appears on his lips at the sound. His cheeks begin to hurt before the muscles of his face relax again. After paying a quick visit to their en suite bathroom to relieve himself, he bounds excitedly up to the third floor library and finds his laptop exactly where he left it.

Taking a seat at one of the desks, Stiles switches the thing on and enters his password before immediately going to his mailbox. The very first thing to pop up is the email Danny just sent him:

' _Hey, Stiles,_

_I looked into the history of your mom's town like you asked me to, and I think you'll be satisfied with what I found. I also searched a bit more for any signs of Landon in the years after he killed his brother and found some interesting stuff. Let me know if you need me to do more._

_Danny_ '

Downloading all the attachments Danny included in the email, Stiles smiles when he finds they're all named and sorted in accordance with what information they contain, whether on his mother or his newfound relatives. He moves them all to their own folder on the desktop before taking a deep breath and opening the first one. It's a copy of a police report, written by one of the officers who was first on the scene after Sonia murdered everybody in her town. Of course, because it's written in Polish he can't read the actual report, but after scrolling down, he finds that Danny has provided a summary of its contents on the next page of the PDF document. He soaks up all the words eagerly. The descriptions of how the officer found all the townspeople are disturbing graphic, so much so that they actually turn Stiles' hardened stomach a little.

' _It was apparently a bloodbath, with bodies absolutely everywhere. Some of them were still intact, but for the most part, everybody was ripped limb from limb like a sleuth of grizzly bears had torn through the town. That would've been unusual enough in itself, but things only got stranger the further the officers investigated._

_When they got to the house owned by Alek and his wife, they couldn't even identify which parts belonged to whom._

_The living room was drenched in blood, and pound after pound of pulverised flesh was strewn across the floor like someone had taken a meat tenderiser and used it for hours. Only a DNA test could confirm that the flesh belonged to Alek, his wife and, sadly, their unborn child. The body of Sonia Kowalczyk was found hanging in the master bedroom, her hands stained red. Investigators were stumped trying to figure out how one woman could do all that, and the case is still a mystery to this day. The only survivor of the massacre was Sonia's niece, Cesia, whose current whereabouts aren't listed._ '

Stiles has to sit there in silence for almost a full ten minutes before everything he's just read sinks in. He thinks it's no wonder his mother wanted to distance herself from all of that as much as she could, knowing he would probably try and do the same if something similar happened to the pack.

After skimming over the document one more time to make sure he caught every little detail, Stiles moves on to the others. They're all about Landon's killing spree across the States in the years between Jeremy's death and his own. Danny has managed to find newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping, all of them news stories or obituaries for large groups of people in different towns. None of them actually say it for obvious reasons, but Stiles knows without having to think about it that each one is a different pack Landon took out in order to steal a new power for himself. When Stiles gets to the last document, he's surprised to find that it's something different. It's a copy of a record from a private investigator residing in Arkansas, a man named Sam Smith. The name is so generic that he instantly assumes it's fake, and he gets why. A job like that must put the man in the path of some dangerous individuals regularly, so it's probably for his safety that he doesn't use his real name.

Landon apparently went to Sam in hopes of finding out more about his biological family. It wasn't a very successful venture, and when Stiles reads the standard list of things Sam requires for a search like that, an authentic birth certificate is right at the top. He supposes this find answers his earlier question, whether or not Landon knew about their familial connection when he came back to Beacon Hills, with a resounding 'no'. It also explains why Landon went looking for the document in the old Hale vault when he was holding his dad and the betas prisoner there.

After he flips the screen of his laptop shut, Stiles feels a sense of closure, the wounds that were ripped open by the discovery of his mother's secret past beginning to scab over.

Returning to the ground floor, Stiles reenters the living room and finds Derek fast asleep right where he left him, wrapped up in the pile of blankets in the middle of the floor. Never one to reject the notion of a nap, he quickly joins his mate beneath the blankets and snuggles up close.

* * *

_\- Monday, September 3rd, 2012 -_

After another boring day of school, Stiles gets back home and all but collapses on the living room sofa, exhausted. He lies on his front with his legs dangling awkwardly over one of the armrests; it's a little uncomfortable, but he doesn't care enough to do anything about it. Ms. Adler's lessons are officially back on, the woman's classroom looking clean and tidy again as if nothing ever happened to it. Chemistry was his last class of the day, and it was a real chore putting up with her gravelly voice for the full hour as she droned on and on and on. Luckily, Lydia's plan appeared to have calmed down her temper quite a bit; instead of picking on him the whole time like she normally would, Stiles was pleasantly surprised when the woman only glared at him once at the beginning of class before ignoring him for the rest of it. It was a vast improvement, one he hopes lasts until he graduates.

Stiles looks up from where he has his face buried in his arms when he hears footsteps approaching. He finds Derek standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking expectantly down at him.

His wolf is shirtless, with his old basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. The sight of the trainers on Derek's feet reminds Stiles that they were supposed to go on a run together as soon as he got home, and he groans and curses his past self for agreeing to it as he takes his wolf's proffered hand and pulls himself up again.

"Lemme just get changed and then we'll go, OK?" Stiles mumbles distractedly, walking around Derek to head up to their bedroom. He rakes a hand through his hair as he ascends the stairs to the second floor, trying and failing to blink the tiredness from his eyes. When he gets back down in the foyer, he finds the front door is wide open, and through it he spies Derek waiting for him on the grass, a water bottle in one hand and another clipped to the waistband of his shorts. Not wanting to keep his mate waiting any longer, Stiles puts on his own running shoes before rushing outside, slamming the front door closed as he goes.

"Ready?" Derek asks when he turns around and watches Stiles hop down the front steps toward him. When the teen nods, he returns it and hands over the second water bottle before setting off.

Leading the way, Derek keeps the pace sedate in deference to Stiles' energy levels. He can easily sense that they're not anywhere near one-hundred percent in that moment, so he plans on keeping things light and relaxed the entire time they're exercising. The two of them run in silence, their heavy footfalls and Stiles' increasingly laboured breathing the only sounds in the preserve.

The shelter of the trees obscures the majority of the sun, meaning that Stiles is in less danger of getting burned by its rays.

He finds it difficult to keep up with Derek and glares at the alpha's tanned back as a result, internally cursing his werewolf stamina because it always puts him to shame. If it were up to him, he wouldn't even participate in these runs, but because he knows it means a lot to Derek to share this with him, he perseveres and pushes through the aching of his feet and leg muscles. After a few minutes, he notices that Derek has altered their route a little. The new one contains less steep inclines, the ground staying relatively flat, and for this he's incredibly grateful. He knows he'll probably sleep like a baby later on that night regardless, but at least now there's less danger of him passing out before it's actually time to go to bed.

About half an hour into their run, Derek brings them to a stop next to a particularly thick tree and unclips his water bottle from his shorts to drink from it deeply. Sweat has begun gathering on his brow, the exertion finally beginning to take a toll on his body, so he keeps his head tilted back as he wipes the perspiration away with his free hand.

Stiles copies Derek, though he drinks his water a little more calmly since he's still trying to catch his breath; he has to stop to take in more air every few seconds.

Getting distracted by the sight of Derek's flushed body, he accidentally pours water down the front of his shirt, soaking the material and making it stick to his skin. He pays it no mind, though, the cool liquid feeling good against his heated skin. His eyes are repeatedly drawn to the dark tuft of hair peeking out from Derek's armpit every time the alpha raises his arm, and he barely resists the urge to move closer and nose into it. He takes one aborted step forward before catching himself and refocusing on quenching his thirst. When he's consumed half his water, he flips the cap closed again, clips it back in place on his waist, and waits for Derek to finish as well. The sound of the man's throat working to swallow reaches his ears, and this combined with the musky scent of sweat drifting over on the gentle breeze sparks arousal in his gut.

Hoping that Derek doesn't smell where his mind has gone, Stiles knows it's pointless when one of the wolf's eyes snaps open to look right at him, an amused twinkle complementing the small ring of red that appears around the pupil. "Shut up..." he orders, narrowing his eyes when Derek laughs at him and wipes his mouth of excess water.

"I didn't say anything," Derek replies, purposefully raising his hands above his head and making a show of stretching. He feels Stiles' eyes on him the whole time. "See something you like?"

Stiles bursts out laughing when Derek strikes a pose against the tree next to which he stands, arching his back with one hand pressed to the trunk above his head and the other down by his leg, trying and purposefully failing at being seductive. Half-lidded eyes and an exaggerated pout complete the look. "I thought I was supposed to be the joker of this relationship, or are you trying to steal my place now?" Stiles cackles, quickly regaining his earlier shortness of breath. He has to bend over and lean on his knees to calm himself down again when it gets to be too much, the unexpectedness of Derek's playfulness only adding to the hilarity of it all. When he can breathe normally again, he pushes himself back up and shakes his head fondly. "C'mon, you big dummy... Let's finish this so we can go home and I can have my way with you."

More than happy to oblige his mate, Derek fights off the smile on his face as he starts jogging again, feeling good about himself because he made Stiles laugh, intentionally, which is a rarity. The water bottle on his waist feels lighter, which makes his movements seem freer and easier.

Eventually, they reach the point in their route where it loops back around to the house, indicating that their run is nearly over.

Derek is content to feel the burn in his legs, satisfied that he's burning off all the weight Stiles' delicious food would no doubt put on his body otherwise. He's had to increase the frequency with which he exercises to compensate for the change in his diet, though he definitely thinks it's more than worth it. He enjoys the work well enough regardless, but the fact that it also means he can stuff his face as much as he likes is certainly a plus. In fact, he becomes so caught up in his own head, imagining all of the things Stiles could make for them both, that he doesn't notice the strange smell that's begun filling the air before it's too late.

Coming over the crest of a particularly long and sloping hill, Derek freezes in his tracks when sees what's now in front of him.

A mysterious figure stands in the very centre of the clearing below, wearing a huge black cloak, complete with a hood that covers their head and hides all their features. They look fairly tall, leading Derek to assume that it's another man. The stranger stands facing away from him and Stiles, stock still with their arms at their sides, seemingly unaware that they've been stumbled upon.

Stiles doesn't see that Derek has come to a stop in time to avoid a collision. He crashes into the man, and it's like hitting solid bricks which send him rebounding backward and down onto his ass. Hitting the ground with a loud thump, he winces when the impact jolts up his spine all the way to the base of his skull, sending shockwaves of pain through the rest of his body. "Ugh, what was that for?" he whines, rubbing at the back of his head. When Derek doesn't answer, he opens his eyes again and squints up at his mate, frowning when the man doesn't move to help. Derek doesn't even turn around, like he didn't hear his question. "Der?" Wondering what has his wolf so distracted, Stiles peers around his strong legs and gasps in shock when he sees what has the alpha so distracted.

Snapping out of his staring, Derek steps back and reaches down blindly for Stiles' hand when the stranger finally notices they have two unexpected visitors. The noise the teen made running into him must have alerted them.

The stranger whirls around, their black cloak billowing around their body and making them look a lot bigger than they did before.

When the stranger flicks up their hand and sends something flying in his direction, Derek yells for Stiles to duck as he himself dives off to the left and out of the way. Luckily, he was apparently fast enough to dodge the unexpected attack, but when he springs back to his feet, he quickly finds that his good fortune was transient. He wasn't anticipating a second attempt to come so soon, so he's unprepared when something else comes flying at his face the second he stands again at his full height. The only thing he's able to do is raise his hands so that whatever it is hits his palms instead. The force of it knocks him off his feet, sending him rolling down the hill to the bottom of the clearing.

Hearing screams of pain, Stiles glances up from where he'd thrown himself flat on his back and searches for the source of the noise. His breath hitches and his mouth hangs open when he sees Derek writhing on the ground, the sound and smell of burning flesh quickly filling the air.

As much as he wants to scurry over to his mate and get a closer look at what's wrong, he can't let his guard down just yet; their attacker is still present and could strike again at any given moment.

This means that Stiles is forced to leave Derek alone on the ground for the time being, even though the mere thought of it makes his chest feel tight. Jumping up, he looks around the clearing for the stranger, swallowing nervously when he sees that they're standing calmly in the same spot, apparently unconcerned about getting hurt by any retaliation. Still, Stiles can't let them get away with hurting Derek like that, so he's quick to focus his magic and hurl a fireball in their direction. It says a lot about the past couple of years that he's not surprised when they seem to disappear right in front of his eyes, his fire flying through the now-empty air to impact and burn out instantly against a tree.

After waiting a few seconds to make sure the stranger has actually left, Stiles hurries over to his wolf and crashes to his knees next to his shuddering body.

The occasional whine of pain still slips out of Derek's mouth, and when Stiles looks down at his hands, he can see why. The skin of his palms is burned away, so much so that he thinks he can actually see some of the bone beneath. Whatever the stranger threw at him must have been acidic, and Stiles has to swallow hard to keep down the bile that threatens to come up at the sight. The only positive is that the wounds look like they're beginning to heal now, though it appears it's going to be a slow process.

"OK... I can do this..." Stiles mumbles to himself, reaching forward and resting a tentative hand on Derek's shoulder. He's glad when this causes the alpha's eyes to snap open, immediately meeting his. "Shh, Sourwolf. You're gonna be fine." When a gentle hand under his arm, he pulls his wolf up to stand again, wincing in sympathy when Derek just stares with wide eyes down at his hands, his mouth a tight line. One side of the man's face is smeared with dirt, and he has several twigs and leaves caught in his hair. Stiles feels a small flash of horror when he sees that Derek's torso is also covered in a clear slime, just like it was in the first vision he had with Deaton weeks ago. He guesses it's a byproduct of whatever spell, potion or curse was used, and this makes him nervous about being in Derek's presence. He fears that what he saw back then, his wolf becoming almost feral and attacking him, will come true any second.

When Derek seemingly remains one-hundred percent himself even a full minute later, Stiles brushes off the fear and urges his wolf to start walking back toward the house.

Derek doesn't speak for most of the journey, which worries Stiles immensely. Since they're closer to the house now and the ground is a lot flatter, he feels comfortable glancing sideways at the man to check up on him. "How're you doing?" he asks carefully.

Finally looking up from his hands at Stiles' question, Derek returns the teen's concerned gaze and lowers his arms, careful to hold them out from his sides so he doesn't accidentally brush his palms against the material of his basketball shorts. "I'm OK now, I think... The pain's getting less intense, but this is probably going to take a while to heal all the way," he answers, trying and failing to control his anger when his mind replays the short fight in his head. "Whoever that bastard was, when I get my hands on them next, I'm gonna snap their neck!"

"Right there with ya, big guy..." Stiles sighs, letting Derek stew in his thoughts as the house finally comes back into view.

Derek allows himself to be shepherded through the front door after Stiles unlocks it with fumbling hands. He preempts his mate's next instruction and heads immediately upstairs and into their en suite bathroom, before the teen can even close the front door again. Taking a seat on the toilet, he rests his hands palms-up on his knees and listens as Stiles scuttles from room to room down on the first floor, opening and closing cupboards and spitting out expletives under his breath. Looking down at his hands, Derek sighs in relief when he can no longer see any exposed bone, his flesh knitting itself back together bit by bit. Thankfully, as long as nothing actually touches the wounds, he doesn't feel any pain from them anymore. He guesses it'll take another hour at most for them to heal completely.

"Alright," Stiles starts when he kicks open the bathroom door a few seconds later, his arms laden with a multitude of things, "let's get you taken care of."

Dumping everything in a pile on the floor by Derek's feet, he kneels down next to it before reaching up to inspect his mate's injuries. Now that Derek's hands are partially healed, the raw, red flesh slowly being covered again my new pink skin, Stiles is able to see just how much dirt the alpha got on them when he fell. It's not a lot, but he guesses it's enough to need cleaning if everything is to heal properly. He looks up at Derek's face to gauge his reaction, but the man speaks before he can.

"Just do it," Derek bites out, his body already tensed in preparation for pain when Stiles nods and opens a new packet of cotton balls and wets a couple with antiseptic.

Wanting to get the worst part out of the way quickly, Stiles begins dabbing the cotton ball over the burns on Derek's hands, apologising profusely when the man hisses loudly as soon as it makes contact with his raw skin. "Just a little bit more..." he assures his wolf, tossing the first soiled ball into the dustbin that sits a few feet away before picking up a second and moving onto Derek's other hand. He works efficiently, having had a lot of practice cleaning wounds of various severities in recent months. Whenever any of the betas get hurt, either by getting into petty arguments with each other or from a training session gone too far, he'll be right there with his little first aid kit to take care of them until their werewolf healing does its job.

Years ago, whenever he and Scott used to get up to all sorts of mischief that usually lead to one of them hurting themselves, Melissa McCall would always patch them up. He used to sit and watch how the woman did it. He was fascinated with the process and wanted to learn everything he could about it, even going so far as to purposefully injure himself so he see it over again. He only stopped when his mother cottoned on to what he was doing and begged him to stop. He calmed down after that because he felt terrible for worrying her.

"OK, I think we're all done with this," Stiles tells Derek a minute later when he deems the man's hands to be clean enough.

"Thanks..." Derek replies, frowning when he finds he has to crack his eyes open again. He didn't realise he'd closed them. Looking down at Stiles' handiwork, he gets a better look at the rest of his body and wrinkles his nose at what he sees. Whatever slime is still on the bare skin of his torso is beginning to dry, becoming crusty and uncomfortable. He doesn't know what the substance actually is, but he's nevertheless thankful for that fact that it doesn't smell of anything. "Ugh, I feel disgusting..."

Stiles looks thoughtfully over at the shower and contemplates the logistics of getting Derek clean. Nodding to himself, he stands and walks over to the stall before reaching inside and turning the knob on the wall to start the water.

Turning back to his mate, Stiles retrieves a couple of fluffy towels and two pairs of sweatpants in advance before pulling the man to his feet. "Right... This is doable, but you'll have to make sure you keep your hands out of the spray the whole time so you don't hurt yourself any, OK?" he explains, reaching down and undoing the tie on Derek's basketball shorts since the wolf can't do it himself. Once they fall to the floor, he watches as his mate steps out of them and kicks them off to the side. They fly into the wall before falling in a heap in the corner. Sticking his hand underneath the detachable shower head to check the temperature of the water, Stiles waits a couple of seconds for it to warm up fully before shedding his own clothes.

When Derek doesn't immediately move to follow him inside the stall, he sticks his head back out and stares confusedly at his wolf. He finds the alpha standing beside the toilet, looking down at his feet as the tips of his ears turn pink. "What's wrong?" he asks, stepping out onto the tiled floor again.

"I kinda, well...I need to pee," Derek mumbles, refusing to meet Stiles' eyes. He feels bad about asking for the teen's help for this on top of everything else.

Stiles' eyes widen, having not expected that answer. He easily picks up on how embarrassed Derek is just speaking those words, though, so he hides his own feelings about it and steps closer, raising a hand to cup one of Derek's bearded cheeks and bring his face up again. "It's fine, Sourwolf; I don't mind," he assures softly, smiling fondly at Derek when he just nods jerkily, the blush on his face intensifying. Bringing their mouths together in an effort to comfort, Stiles hums into the kiss and strokes his thumb across his wolf's cheekbone when he pulls away. Moving his hand from Derek's face, he rests it instead on the alpha's shoulder and nods his head toward the toilet. "Turn around."

After Derek does as he says, Stiles flips up the toilet seat before crowding up behind him. He tucks his chin over Derek's shoulder and rubs his left hand over the man's stomach to keep him relaxed, ruffling the fine hairs the lead down from his navel with a finger.

With his other hand, Stiles reaches around Derek's hip and takes the man's flaccid cock in a careful hold, drawing back the foreskin so the head is exposed and pointing it down at the bowl.

"Go ahead," he whispers, continuing to move his hand up and down Derek's torso. When he ends up standing there for almost thirty seconds without anything happening, he assumes that Derek is still too mortified to let go in front of him. Butting their heads together gently, he holds his lips close to the alpha's ear and mutters, "Seriously, Sourwolf, let me do this for you."

Another few seconds later, Stiles feels Derek's cock twitch in his hand before a stream of piss finally spurts forth from the slit. He looks back down over the alpha's shoulder and watches as the pale yellow liquid splashes into the toilet. The stream is stronger than he was expecting; Derek was obviously more desperate to relieve himself than he let on, a realisation that Stiles will definitely be bringing up again later when everything is over. It just seems to go on and on, and about halfway through, Stiles is brought out of his staring when Derek moans quietly next to him and tilts his head back, apparently enjoying emptying his bladder quite a bit.

Stiles has to admit, especially when Derek turns to look at him with hooded eyes, that the whole experience his startlingly erotic.

He never would've thought something like this would turn him on, but, lo and behold, when he glances down between their bodies, he sees his own cock sticking out hard and proud between his legs, in danger of poking into the firm hair-dusted globes of Derek's ass.

It's a combination of things, really. There's the fact that Derek trusts him and is comfortable enough with him to let him see him like this, to hold his soft length in his hand as he performs what is usually such a private act. The intimacy of it all gets to him, and he finds himself moving forward without even thinking, connecting their mouths again in an intense kiss. Because he's already in such a vulnerable position, Stiles isn't surprised when Derek stays submissive in the kiss, letting him take control of it without a fight.

The other thing that's affecting him so much is more unexpected. The actual act of seeing Derek let loose a stream of hot, not-quite-clear urine stokes a fire in his gut that he never could have anticipated. Ideas and wants spring into his mind, ones he never imagined he would have ever in his life. He recalls the conversation he and Derek had the morning after they returned to Beacon Hills, about the alpha's instinct to mark his territory in every way possible. He can definitely get on board with that idea now. In that moment, nothing sounds better than getting down on his knees and letting Derek shower him in piss, than bathing in the pungent liquid until he smells of nothing else. He longs to wrap his lips around the head of Derek's cock and drink it down right from the source like it's the tastiest treat imaginable, to fill his stomach with it until it swells and he can return the favour.

Unfortunately, by the time Stiles brings himself out of his fantasising and ends the kiss, Derek's bladder is almost completely empty, the stream tapering off.

He figures it's probably for the best. Even though he can't wait to make his fantasies a reality, he knows it isn't a very good idea to do so while Derek is still hurt. Still, when the stream ends and the last few drops of piss spurt forth from the slit, he moves his hand at the last second and catches them on his finger. His breath stops when the heat of it seeps into his skin.

"Stiles?" Derek asks breathlessly when the teen remains standing still, staring down at his hand with what looks like wonder in his eyes. When Stiles finally looks at him again, he watches with rapt attention as the boy brings his hand up and takes it in his mouth.

A quiet moan escapes Stiles as he sucks on his index finger, running his tongue around the digit to make sure he collects all the bitter liquid. He does this with each finger until his hand is licked clean, keeping his eyes locked with Derek's shocked ones the entire time. Tasting just skin now, he slides his pinky from his mouth and smiles shyly before hiding his face in Derek's shoulder. "Sorry... I was just...curious," he answers huskily, taking a couple of deep breathes before raising his head again. "I gotta say I'm intrigued about, y'know, the whole 'marking me as yours' thing, more than I was before. I don't know... I didn't think seeing you taking a piss would be as hot as it was, but there ya go. I found it _very_ hot. Unfortunately, it's gonna have to wait for another day, though. For now, let's just get you cleaned up and tucked into bed, OK? We can talk more about this when you're feeling better."

Still too shocked to answer, Derek just lets himself be pushed gently into the shower. Because of what just happened, he doesn't think and forgets about Stiles' earlier warning, hissing in pain when he steps into the spray and the water runs over his hands.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles puts Derek into position himself, wrapping his hands around the alpha's wrists and bringing his arms up so that they stick out in front of him like he's doing a bad impression of a zombie. "Keep 'em like that, OK?" he reiterates for good measure, just in case his wolf has another lapse in judgement.

Doing as his mate says, Derek stands with his back to the spray and looks straight ahead. He listens intently as Stiles sorts through all the toiletries they keep in their large shower caddy, which runs up the corner furthest away from the shower head. His eyes close when the teen steps close and tilts his head back, slender fingers running through his hair and pulling out the various dried leaves and small twigs that are still stuck there. When the last of it is gone, thrown out of the stall to land in a pile on the tiled floor, he hums low in his throat when Stiles' hands return to his hair, this time with a liberal amount of shampoo in his palms. He leans into the teen's touches as the shampoo is worked into a lather, his eyelids fluttering when Stiles apparently decides he's in need of a head massage.

"This OK?" Stiles asks after a few seconds, not sure how to interpret Derek's silence. Because of the noise created by the shower, he cannot hear the alpha's noises of pleasure.

"More than..." Derek groans, his voice sounding low and gravelly. Stiles' touches feel so good that, if the teen still doesn't know what career he wants to pursue when it comes time to go to college, he thinks that he'll definitely be suggesting a career as a masseur. At least that's what he'd do if the thought of Stiles touching a bunch of naked strangers didn't stir a load of intensely possessive feelings in his gut. After a few more seconds of contemplation, his wolf huffs in agreement when he dismisses the idea as a very stupid one.

Because he now sees how much Derek appears to be enjoying it, Stiles keeps up the head massage for longer than he was intending, not stopping until his hands begin to cramp.

When they do, he extracts his fingers from Derek's hair and urges him to step backward a little so that his head is under the shower's spray. Cupping a hand against his wolf's forehead, right at his hairline so that he doesn't accidentally get shampoo in his eyes, Stiles uses his free hand to wash the white lather from the dark strands until the water running down the drain turns clear. Once it does, he puts Derek back into the position he was in before.

"Now for the conditioner..." Stiles mumbles, reaching behind himself for the bottle and squeezing out a generous dollop of the stuff into his palm. He works it through Derek's hair and leaves it in, not planning on washing it out again until everything else is done so that the alpha's hair is as silky as possible. _This should be fun_ , he thinks with a private smile, glad that his wolf still has his eyes closed and thus cannot see his face. After retrieving Derek's usual cinnamon-scented shower gel, Stiles looks over the man's body appreciatively and notes that some of the clear slime their assailant threw at him earlier has already been washed off. Deciding to start with Derek's back, he steps behind the alpha and runs his hands across the tattooed skin in wide strokes.

Derek arches into Stiles' hands, very much enjoying having all of the teen's attention focused on him. He practically purrs when the teen begins working out some of the knots that his fall caused, biting his lip to prevent the sound from actually escaping.

At the start of the shower, Stiles was planning on keeping his touches as casual and methodical as possible

He wanted to get through it quickly to avoid accidentally causing Derek any more pain, but because he's keeping his hands out of the way, the alpha seems to be getting some serious enjoyment out of the whole thing. This makes Stiles throw his earlier plans out of the metaphorical window, deciding to instead shower his mate in pleasure to make up for what he experienced earlier in the preserve. He hasn't had much practice giving massages, but from Derek's rather vocal responses, he guesses he's doing a pretty good job of it.

Once Stiles works out the last knot in Derek's back, he adds some more shower gel to his hands before moving lower. Crouching down in the basin puts the alpha's ass right in his face, a situation he would take full advantage of in any other situation.

As it is, Stiles just fits a cheek in each hand before rubbing the gel into the hair-dusted globes, smirking up at the back of Derek's head when the man bends forward and sticks his ass out further for easier access. He runs his hands down the backs of his wolf's powerful thighs and calves a couple of times before returning to his ass, shrugging to himself as he pulls the cheeks apart. He swipes his tongue once up the centre and swirls it around the tight pucker of Derek's hole, chuckling at the small whine the alpha releases as he draws back and licks his lips. "Later, Sourwolf," he assures, stroking a hand soothingly across the small of Derek's back, "when you're all healed up." Pushing himself to his feet again, he takes the shower head out of its holder and aims it at Derek's back to wash away all the shower gel still on his skin.

"Turn around," Stiles instructs as he fits the shower head back in place. His movements falter for a second when Derek obliges and he gets an eyeful of the man's cock, apparently very interested in the proceedings. "Eager, huh?"

Even with the hard length in front of him just begging to be touched, Stiles is resolute in his decision to wait, going back to his earlier plan of keeping things casual as he washes Derek's front.

Skirting quickly around his mate's nipples and over his cock so that he doesn't work the man up any more than he already is, it takes a couple of washes before all the slime still on his skin is gone. Derek's arms are the last part to be washed, and he's incredibly cautious about doing so. By this point, he can see that his wolf's hands are basically all healed, the skin of his palms new and pink. Still, he doesn't want to risk it, so he washes Derek's forearms and biceps as fast as possible before dipping his hands into the recesses of his armpits.

Touching Derek there sparks a new wave of arousal through Stiles' body, and he knows Derek can smell it when the man's nostrils flare and a small growl slips past his lips.

Coughing awkwardly, Stiles quickly works the gel into Derek's armpits before using the shower head to wash him clean. "Wait for me outside, OK?" he instructs, opening the stall and pointing to the bathroom outside. When Derek steps out onto the floor, Stiles closes the glass door again and makes quick work of himself, turning the water temperature right down in an attempt to rid himself of his lust as he scrubs at his skin vigorously. Because he didn't end up nearly as dirty as Derek, it's not long before he's turning off the shower and stepping out onto the cool tile as well, immediately grabbing one of the fluffy towels he brought in earlier and drying himself off. He's very much aware that Derek's eyes are on him the entire time, but he does his best to ignore the heat of the man's gaze.

Picking up the second towel, Stiles dries Derek with gentle hands, rubbing the white material over his dark hair for a minute before dropping it into the laundry to take care of later.

Following Stiles out into their bedroom, Derek prods tentatively at his palms with a finger, wincing when he feels a small spark of pain at the point of contact. He guesses it'll take another half an hour or so for him to be one-hundred percent back to normal, so for now, he puts up with Stiles' mother-henning, knowing it makes his mate feel better to take care of him.

After ordering Derek into bed, Stiles tucks the blankets up to the alpha's waist when he sits at the head and props himself up with their pillows. "I want you to stay here for the rest of the day, OK?" he frets, making sure that Derek's hands are laid palms-up in his lap and paying no attention to the very extreme eye roll he gets in return. "Absolutely no moving! You want something, you ask me to get it for you. Seriously, if you leave this bed before I say you're ready, there will be serious consequences, Mr.!" He points a finger at Derek, so close to his nose that the alpha has to cross his eyes to see it properly. The goofy sight causes his stern expression to crack, an amused grin appearing on his face instead. "Alright... I'm gonna make you some food and then see if I can figure out what that dick did to you. Be a good boy and stay."

Letting the boy get away with the dog joke for once, Derek gives into Stiles' demands, nodding and grumbling good-naturedly while he watches the teen bustle about the room, putting on fresh clothes and cleaning up the mess they brought in with them. He doesn't plan on ever saying it out loud, but he can admit to himself that it feels rather nice being pampered by his mate like this.

When he's gathered all their soiled clothes, Stiles glares threateningly in Derek's direction one last time before exiting the room.

Relaxing fully back into the pillows, Derek sits there stupidly for several minutes and wonders what he's supposed to do while he waits. The remote for the flatscreen television they have mounted on the opposite wall is just a few feet away on the nightstand, so he takes it carefully between his thumb and index finger and pulls it closer so he can see the buttons better. He does his best to ignore the stinging in his hands as he navigates between channels, looking for something to hold his interest until Stiles returns.

After finally selecting something, Derek frowns when the room seems to heat up suddenly, causing sweat to bead across his brow. He guesses Stiles must have turned up the thermostat as he went downstairs, but instead of actually yelling for the teen and asking, he just pushes the sheets down around his ankles to compensate for the increase in temperature, hoping that'll help.

He refocuses on the scene playing out on the television screen.

Downstairs, Stiles enters the laundry room and begins sorting through their clothes, coming to a halt when he sees the state Derek's basketball shorts are in. The front is smeared with dirt and slime. He's considering just putting them through the wash anyway and hoping for the best when he notices the multitude of small cuts and holes in the legs. The shorts were basically hanging on by a thread before, but the tumble Derek took back in the preserve was apparently the final straw. They'll definitely fall apart completely if he tries to clean them, so he sighs sadly and just throws them away. It's a little heartbreaking because they used to feature prominently in most of his sexual fantasies, but he supposes with a salacious grin that Derek can always get a replacement at some point in the near future.

After getting the washing machine going, Stiles heads through to the kitchen and looks through the cupboards for something simple he can cook. He settles on soup, not wanting to make anything more elaborate than that because he doesn't really feel right being away from Derek longer than he needs to be.

It's when he's halfway through heating up the soup that he hears it. A loud thump vibrates through the ceiling, like something heavy fell to the floor.

Frowning, Stiles turns off the stove before walking back into the foyer and standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Der?" he calls, growing more concerned when he doesn't receive an answer after several seconds. It's not like Derek to ignore him, so he goes back up to the second floor and pushes their bedroom door open. He steps slowly through it.

The bed is empty, the sheets a wrinkled and torn up mess where they lay at the foot of the mattress. "What the hell...?" Stiles whispers, looking around the room to see if he can locate his mate without moving from his spot in the doorway. He's unsuccessful, so he takes a cautious step forward with the intent of checking the bathroom for his wolf and freezes again when he hears quiet growling coming from around the other side of the bed. Changing his path, he walks around the frame until Derek comes into view. The alpha is kneeling low on the carpet, hunched in on himself as his body shudders violently. "Derek? What's wrong?"

Stiles feels his heart begin to beat faster in fear when the alpha turns to him slowly, the growling getting louder when their eyes meet.

Derek's face is shifted into its beta form, complete with prominent brow and wiry sideburns. Sweat pours down his face and shoulders and his breaths are laboured, his chest heaving with each one. After a few seconds of tense silence where neither of them move in inch, Derek launches forward without warning, his claws out and pointing right at Stiles' chest.

Flailing away from the attack, Stiles yells when his ass connects hard with the floor and sends a painful jolt up his spine. Thinking in the back of his mind that his vision is coming true after all, he crawls backward until he puts the bed between himself and Derek and watches, terrified, as his wolf pushes himself slowly to his feet. The alpha looks feral, like there's nothing but a wild animal left inside his head, and Stiles holds his hands out in a feeble attempt to placate the man and prevent another attempt on his life. He never thought he'd be in this situation, so he's at a complete loss about what he should do.

"Derek, c'mon, you don't want to hurt me, right? We're mates; you love me, remember?" he asks with a shaky voice, trying desperately to tap into whatever humanity may be left inside Derek's mind.

When the alpha tilts his head to the side, almost he's examining him and mulling over his words, Stiles takes a shuddering breath and stands a little bit taller, hoping that his attempt is working. Those hopes are quickly dashed when Derek roars and pounces at him again, leaping over the bed and tackling him to the floor. He struggles with all his might, not wanting to die and also knowing that it would kill Derek, too, to know that he was the cause of it whenever he comes back to himself. His wrists are pinned above his head, claws piercing his skin and causing blood to run down and stain the pale carpet beneath him. Having never been one to give up even when all signs point to him being bested, Stiles manages to wedge one of his legs between Derek's and aim a kick upward, praying that getting kneed in the crotch will be enough for him to escape. Of course, he's not that lucky.

All it does it cause Derek to howl in pain and tighten his grip, snapping his fangs so close to Stiles' face that the teen is surprise he doesn't get his nose bitten off. "Derek, please don't do this..." he whimpers, the bones in his wrists grinding together, almost being ground to dust.

Stiles stops breathing when the constant rumbling coming from Derek's chest gets louder before abruptly cutting off, the alpha's body shuddering atop his own.

"I don't k-know what happening..." Derek stutters out suddenly, his head bowed. The last thing he remembers is getting hotter and hotter until a sharp pain shot through his head. He opened his mouth to call out to Stiles and found his voice didn't work, so he attempted to get up instead, only to have his legs buckle as soon as his feet touched the floor. He can smell Stiles' fear—the scent is thick and acrid in is nostrils—and tries so desperately to stop himself, but whatever's gotten inside his mind is powerful and unforgiving.

Derek manages to release Stiles' wrists from his grip with immense effort, sweat continuing to wet his skin and drip down onto the carpet the entire time. "I d-don't think I can stop myself for long..." he groans, whining in confusion when his hips thrust forward of their own accord.

Rubbing at what he knows will soon become bruises around his wrists, Stiles sucks in a shocked breath when he feels Derek's hard length rub against his right hipbone. He wonders for a second whether it'd be possible to get his wolf locked up down in the basement catacombs before his control breaks again, but when the alpha whines pitifully a second time and grinds his hips down once more, Stiles knows it's just wishful thinking. "OK...OK, I can do this," he tells himself, keeping his movements slow as he turns over and army crawls out from under Derek's shaking form. He doesn't make it very far, because the man grabs a rough hold of his ankle before he can even push himself up to his knees. "We're gonna be fine, Der. We've just gotta ride this out." He prays for his hunch to be right, that whatever Derek is going through is just another version of the curse Isaac was afflicted with the previous weekend. Once it has run its course, he hopes it dissipates.

From his position on the floor, Stiles is just about able to reach up to the top drawer in his bedside table. He fumbles about inside blindly until he finds their lube.

"Hurry!" Derek growls angrily, his restraint wearing thin with every second. The sight of Stiles crawling away from him, trying to escape, didn't help matters, only worsening the savage instincts burning away inside his head. He just about manages to let go of Stiles' ankle so that the teen can take off his sweatpants, but that's about the extent of his control.

Flipping himself over onto his back, Stiles' hands shake as he slicks up his fingers and brings his hand down between his legs, wincing when he shoves two straight in without preamble. He wants to get himself ready as fast as possible so Derek doesn't have to struggle any longer than is necessary. His ass burns and protests the rough treatment, but he pushes through it, just managing to work up to three fingers before he hears Derek howl. The alpha is on him again in the next second, pushing his limbs out of the way and hunching his hips forward again and again as he gets them both in position. All Stiles can do is lie there and take it, figuring it'll hurt less for both of them if he doesn't resist in any way. He only has a second to worry about the fact that Derek isn't slicked up at all before he feels it.

The first breach has him throwing his head back and crying out anyway, especially when Derek doesn't give him any time to adjust like he would if he were in his right mind. Instead, the alpha sets up a brutal pace right off the bat, pounding into his poor underprepared ass without remorse.

Derek growls and grunts loudly with every snap of his hips, his claws cutting into pale skin and leaving bright trails of red behind in their wake.

While Stiles may have confessed in the past to enjoying things on the rough side every now and then, this is nothing like that. It's animalistic in the worst way, especially because he doesn't think Derek is even aware of what's happening, and if he is, he can't do anything about it. Stiles scrabbles at the floor, almost tearing out the carpet as he grits his teeth and whimpers through the pain. He doesn't want to put his hands on Derek and hold on to him instead, afraid that any contact like that will only make the alpha's movements rougher.

Eventually, Stiles feels Derek's cock begin to get bigger, his knot forming and expanding at the base. The alpha's thrusts falter but don't stop as he pushes the growing bulb of flesh unrelentingly through the tight ring of the teen's hole. Any resistance Derek finds only seems to make him push forward harder. Stiles almost whites out when, at the same time his wolf snaps his hips one last time and sheathes himself completely, the knot reaching its full size, he feels claws and fangs all sink deep into his sides and shoulder. He can't prevent himself from screaming and trying to get away from it all, overwhelmed and wanting it to end. As his insides are pumped full, he gets his wish, his vision going black around the edges before he loses consciousness.

* * *

When Stiles comes to sometime later, the sun has gone down and Derek is nowhere to be found.


	15. Forgiveness

Stiles whimpers when he tries to move. His whole body protests it, and when he looks down to survey the damage, he can understand why. Several cuts run down the inside of his forearms, though Derek's claws thankfully didn't go very deep there. Unfortunately, he cannot say the same about his torso. It's much worse off, with long gashes running down both of his sides that still sluggishly bleed red onto the carpet beneath him. "Derek?!" he calls out hoarsely, his heart sinking when all the answer he gets is silence. His ass twinges painfully when he rolls onto his stomach, but he tries to breathe though it as he pushes himself up onto his knees and stands on shaky feet. His head spins, he guesses because of the blood loss, so he has to hold a hand out along the wall as he makes his way into the bathroom. The trail of red he leaves along the paint goes unnoticed.

The overhead light is blinding when he flips it on, so he stumbles blindly over to the sink and leans his hands on the rim while he waits for his eyes to adjust. Once they do, he stares dazedly at himself in the mirror.

He can't believe what just happened.

Never did he think he'd be put in a position like that, least of all with his beloved Derek. He knows he'll probably be more upset about everything later, but his emotions feel muted, like they're far away or they belong to someone else. A voice in the back of his mind tells him that he's just in shock, but he pays it no attention.

Almost as if he's running on autopilot, Stiles retrieves the first aid kit he stores in the cupboard under the sink, pushing through the pain when he crouches down and all his wounds throb brightly. Standing straight again with clenched teeth, he flips open the box and gets more blood everywhere as he searches through everything kept within, looking for disinfectant, gauze and medical tape. He begins patching himself up as best he can without really watching what he's doing, and when he finishes cleaning the last gash that runs along the ribs of his right side, he pauses and turns to stare through the door into the bedroom when he hears what sounds like an engine approaching from far off in the distance. As far as he knew, the pack had no plans to visit the house that day, but he guesses it's not that unusual for them to make an appearance regardless of the fact.

When the sound of the front door opening echoes up the stairs, Stiles stands stock-still and prays that whoever it is doesn't come up looking for him. He hopes they'll come to the conclusion that no one's there and go back to their own home. His luck is still on the sour side, though, as he finds out a minute later.

Stepping into the foyer, Isaac frowns when he scents something odd in the air. It's not close by, so it's not very strong and it takes him several seconds to identify it.

All the warning Stiles gets before his bedroom door is kicked in roughly is the sound of thundering footsteps coming up the stairs. When Isaac steps into view and freezes where he stands a few feet away, he holds his breath and the other boy's shocked eyes, waiting to see what the beta's reaction will be. The fact that he's still naked doesn't even enter his mind. When it looks like Isaac is just going to stand there gaping at him, Stiles turns back to the mirror and continues taking care of his injuries. He picks up a long strip of gauze and gets halfway through taping it over one of the long gashes on his side when an unexpected hand closes around his own, halting his movements. In his head, he curses the silent footsteps of his lycanthropic friend.

"Stiles... What the hell happened...?" Isaac enquires gently. He keeps his voice quiet, his experience with his deceased father giving him the ability to easily recognise the look Stiles has in his eyes.

He used to see it all the time in his own.

Isaac tries to keep his eyes up so he doesn't accidentally get a look at something he shouldn't, but he can't help himself when Stiles takes his hand back and turns away from him a little more to stick down some of the tape on his side more firmly. The entirety of the other boy's back looks red and irritated, like he has a rash or something similar. Stepping forward, a closer inspection makes him realise what it really is—a severe case of carpet burn. Coupled with the small patch of blood and other bodily fluids he can see smeared just below Stiles' ass, this clues him in to what the human teen must have suffered through before he arrived. The other boy stinks to high heaven, and it's a real struggle to keep back all the questions he wants to ask, like how it happened, who caused it, and where Derek has gone. The thought of the answers he might get would be enough to scare him into keeping his mouth closed anyway, but it's the fact that Stiles doesn't appear in the right mindset to offer any yet that actually stops him from asking for them. He can wait.

"It wasn't his fault..." is all the reply Stiles offers before going silent again. He's stopped from continuing the somewhat shoddy treatment his injuries when Isaac gently takes the roll of tape from him.

The beta lays it down on the countertop next to the gauze before pulling Stiles out of the bathroom. "That's not going to be enough, I don't think... You're gonna need stitches for some of these cuts," Isaac points out, wincing in sympathy when looks over them all again.

Stopping quickly next to the dresser, he pulls a pair of baggy pyjama bottoms from one of the drawers and hands them off to Stiles to put on. He sighs and keeps his eyes averted when he has to crouch down low to help the human teen step into them. "We should get Melissa over here so she can check you over properly. I think she can do the stitches herself, and she'll probably give you something for the pain and make sure nothing gets infected or something as well..." With that, he wraps a careful arm around Stiles' shoulders and forces the other boy to join him downstairs. When they get into the living room, he takes his phone out from his jeans pocket and taps the screen a couple of times to bring up Melissa McCall's number before holding it up to his ear.

As much as he knows Isaac is right, Stiles isn't really looking forward to having the woman see him in such a state. He knows she'll make him tell her what happened, and he really doesn't feeling like getting into it just yet, especially not with her. Still, he settles on the sofa when Isaac pushes him down onto it and decides to accept his fate, hiding his wince when his ass twinges painfully again.

Maybe if he whips out his best puppy eyes, he can get Melissa to go easy on him. He won't have to look far inside himself to find the sadness he'll need.

It's not long before there's a knock at the door and Isaac goes to answer it, which leaves Stiles alone in the living room. The human teen hears hushed talking coming from the foyer, and he guesses this is just Isaac explaining the current situation to Melissa; he hopes the other boy isn't going into too much detail. After about a minute, the talking cuts off and three sets of footsteps approach. Confused, Stiles turns to look over the back of the sofa and gets a surprise when he sees Scott approaching behind his mother. In hindsight, he supposes he should've known—if the situation were reversed, he would definitely want to be there for his best friend as well.

"Hey, Stiles, honey," Melissa greets gently, dressed in her scrubs with a medical kit slung over her shoulder. It's the same one she used to clean Stiles up at the sheriff's station right after his dad's death. "How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I don't really know," Stiles replies quietly, keeping his eyes on Melissa as she walks around the sofa and kneels down in front of him.

The way she's talking to him as if he's a trauma victim annoys him a little, but he doesn't comment on it, especially not when a quick reassessment of the situation ends with him admitting to himself that he basically is one. He watches as she places her bag on the coffee table before unzipping it and pulling out the tools she'll need to check him over properly. When he sees the curved needle used for administering sutures, he shies away from it, wiggling nervously in place and grimacing prematurely. He can already anticipate how unpleasant that experience will be. His attention is torn away from Melissa when Scott takes the seat right next to him, and he prepares himself for the onslaught of questions he guesses are coming. He's grateful when they never do, though, the beta apparently using his senses for once and cottoning on to the fact that he has none to give and most likely won't until the next day at the very least.

Nodding understandingly, Melissa puts on a pair of disposable rubber gloves and shuffles closer to Stiles, pushing him back to lean against the cushions so she can get a better look. She keeps her touches brief as she examines the gashes on his torso with a critical eye, assessing the damage and running through the necessary treatments in her head. "You're actually quite lucky," she offers eventually, breaking the silence that has fallen over the room.

Grabbing a disinfectant wipe, she begins running it gently down all of the cuts to make sure they're actually clean before she does anything else.

"Oh, _really_?" Stiles replies sarcastically, looking up at the ceiling.

Even though he's aware that Melissa still doesn't have the full story and that she's most likely just pointing out the fact that he could've been hurt much worse, he still responds negatively to her words. He doesn't consider anything about the situation 'lucky' in the slightest—quite the opposite, in fact. Getting mauled by your feral lover is obviously something he's not happy about, especially when he doesn't even know how Derek is taking it all, whether he's off beating himself up or doing something stupid because of it.

"Yes, really," Melissa replies, choosing to ignore Stiles' tone. "I can treat you here without having to take you to a hospital. That would just lead to questions I'm sure you don't want to answer, so small miracles I suppose." It's tricky to know how to act. She's torn between her professionalism and her motherly instincts, one half of her wanting to just do her job efficiently and the other wanting to coddle Stiles like a little boy. In the end, she lets the professional half take control, guessing that Stiles will get the support he should need from Scott and Isaac. Gathering all of her suturing equipment, she waits for Isaac to get into position on Stiles' other side before beginning. The first stitch is the hardest to do, the want to stop almost taking over as soon as she hears Stiles' resulting hiss of pain, but she pushes past it, knowing that getting it all done quickly will be best.

Stiles grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut for the first few seconds until he feels the sting of the needle suddenly disappear. Cracking open an eye, he glances to the side and feels a surge of gratitude when he sees black veins crawling up Scott and Isaac's arms.

"Almost finished..." Melissa assures several long minutes later, tying off the last stitch and cutting the excess thread off. The last step is to cover it with a bandage. "There. All set."

"Thanks," Stiles breathes once the last piece of tape has been stuck down, nodding his permission for Scott and Isaac to cease siphoning off his pain. He gets a small rush of it when their hands and his skin lose contact, but it's quick to pass and fade into something more manageable. Feeling a bit parched, he sends Scott off the kitchen to get him a glass of water, drinking it down as soon as the beta returns and places it in his hand.

Packing away most of her kit again, Melissa notices the way Stiles is holding himself as still as possible, his movements slow so he doesn't disturb his wounds or pull his stitches. Knowing that regular over-the-counter medication won't do the trick, she searches through the bottom of her bag and pulls out a small bottle of morphine and a new syringe. "It's getting pretty late, so I'm going to give you a shot of this to help with the pain, and then I want you to go right up to bed and get some rest, OK?" she informs Stiles, filling the syringe and tapping the end against the bottle to make sure it's functioning properly. Finding a vein quickly when Stiles holds out his arm, she inserts the needle and pushes down on the plunger. Once she's injected what she guesses will be enough, she tapes a small cotton ball over the tiny bleeding mark left behind and raises her eyes to the ceiling pointedly. "Right, up you go."

The morphine quickly exacerbating his rapidly depleting energy levels, Stiles is quick to follow the woman's instruction without argument, leaning into Isaac's side when the beta offers to help him up the stairs.

He ruffles the tall beta's hair when he's deposited gently on the bed. "Good boy..." he mumbles sleepily, snuggling back into the pillows and forgetting in his morphine haze that someone crucial is missing next to him. The last thing he registers before succumbing to unconsciousness is the light being turned off and the soft click of the door as Isaac closes it behind himself.

* * *

_\- Tuesday, September 4th, 2012 -_

As Melissa suggested, Stiles stays home from school the next day to give his stitches a proper chance to work their magic, with Isaac, Erica and, surprisingly, Boyd joining him. He tried to wave off their concerns and make them attend their lessons, but none of them listened and he didn't have the heart to force them with an alpha-mate order. Everybody else goes as if everything's normal and Stiles' life isn't completely falling apart before their eyes. The whole pack ditching on the same day would bring them all unwanted attention anyway, and four already looks suspicious enough as it is. Instead of just sitting at home, letting the three betas take care of his every want and need, because Derek still hasn't come back yet, Stiles suggests they go and look for the alpha themselves.

Because the morphine has now left his system and he doesn't want to ask Melissa for more, he can't move without causing himself pain. Because of this, he basically becomes a base of operations in his and Derek's house while the three betas search elsewhere.

Stiles texts them constantly with new ideas he has about where his mate might have run off to. The man's black Camaro still sits right next to his blue one outside, and that immediately tells them all that wherever their alpha has gone, he went there on foot. Derek's shoes are still in their place inside the front door, and the fact that the man rushed from the house without putting them on gives Stiles some insight into how distraught he must've been in that moment. He doesn't blame Derek, especially not since he has fairly recent experience with being made to do something against his will and the guilt that comes with that.

He really wouldn't put it past the man to not have been thinking at all. He knows Derek would've just wanted to get _away_ —the method probably didn't matter in the slightest.

Derek's scent trail is easy enough to find, made more pungent than normal because it's contaminated with blood, shame and just about every other negative emotion under the sun. The only problem is that it leads far outside of Beacon Hills, to a place where the ground is damp with fresh rain. This basically puts an end to the trail, so Erica, Isaac and Boyd return to Stiles with their tails between their legs, disheartened.

It's about an hour before school should let out that there comes a knock at the door.

Since Isaac is busy looking over the claw marks on his sides, checking to make sure he hasn't popped any of his stitches and that there isn't an infection setting in anywhere, Stiles looks pleadingly at Erica and smiles gratefully at the blonde beta when she graciously goes to see just who their unexpected guest is. Still, he manages to crane his head around and look over the back of the sofa to try and get a look at them himself without disturbing Isaac's work. He hears Erica open the door, followed by some quiet talking, but he frowns when he finds he can't make out any of the words. A few seconds later, Erica comes back through into the large archway with a guilty look on her face.

Stiles wonders why briefly before their guest follows her into the room a couple of seconds later. He doesn't have time to push Isaac away and cover himself up before Jordan Parrish gets a look at him.

Coming a halt when he gets halfway around the sofa, Parrish's eyes are wide with shock as he stares at the long lines of black stitches that run down either side of Stiles' torso. The whole room seems to go still along with the man, and no one else moves an inch until he takes a couple of aborted steps closer and falls down in the seat next to the scared-looking boy. "Stiles... Who did this to you...?" he enquires breathlessly, rage building in his gut at the idea that someone would dare touch and harm the human teen, who he considers a good friend, in such a way.

Parting his lips in preparation to spout off some hastily thought out excuse to appease Parrish's concerns, Stiles doesn't even get the first word out before the man interrupts him. He forgets to close his mouth again when he hears the next series of questions Parrish asks him in a rush.

"Did Derek do this? Is he hurting you? God, why didn't you come to me sooner?! I'm gonna make sure he fries for this, mark my words... He's not gonna get away with it!" Parrish exclaims, leaping up from his seat again and pulling Stiles up with him. "C'mon; I'm taking you out of here before he can lay another finger on you." He doesn't know why the teen struggles against his hold when he tries to pull him through to the foyer and out the front door, away from his abuser. His confusion about the whole situation only increases when he gets a look at the disapproving expressions on Isaac, Boyd and Erica's faces and at the amusement he sees forming on Stiles'. He frowns when Isaac moves forward and wrenches Stiles out of his grip. "What's wrong with you three? Don't tell me you actually want him to stay here after what Derek's done..."

Allowing himself one small chuckle, Stiles dutifully sits back in his place on the sofa while Isaac checks him over again. He knows it would be pointless to try to stop him; the beta won't be satisfied until he sees that his stitches are all still intact with his own eyes. Turning back to Parrish, his expression softens when he sees how befuddled the man looks by his refusal.

"Why don't you have a seat? We've got a lot to talk about, it seems..." Stiles sighs, settling in for what he knows will be a long and tiring conversation.

Hesitantly, Parrish complies, skirting back around the sofa while keeping his distance from Erica, who looks one wrong move away from actually attacking him. The fact that Boyd has a hand resting on the girl's shoulder seems to be the only thing actually holding her back for the time being.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles locks eyes with Isaac when the beta pulls away, his inspection finally finished. He holds up a hand and curls his fingers like claws to intimate his plan to the curly-haired beta, smiling gratefully at him when he nods. "Right... What I'm gonna say next is going to sound crazy and it's probably gonna make you worry about me even more," he starts off, shifting in place with nervous energy when he notices how focused on him Parrish appears to be. "I guess I should just come out and say it... Werewolves are real." He bites on his bottom lip when the deputy just continues looking at him blankly, like he's waiting for the punchline of a joke. As he thought, when he doesn't give one, Parrish looks a little scared for his sanity.

Wordlessly, Stiles gestures for Isaac to take over.

Waiting until Parrish's gaze flicks over to his face, Isaac taps into the wolf at his core and lets his face shift into its beta form. He bares his fangs and flashes his eyes.

Parrish screams in surprise and flails backward off of the sofa, landing with a thud on the floor as he reaches for the firearm strapped to his waist. He doesn't get further than raising the gun a few inches into the air before he hears a growl coming from his right and the weapon is knocked from his hand. He stares in terror up at Erica's snarling face, flinching when one of her long blonde curls comes loose from her ponytail and brushes against his cheek.

"Erica!" Stiles yells, his tone dripping with his alpha-mate authority. "That's enough!" He glares the girl into submission before ordering her to go with Boyd into the kitchen to calm down. When the couple are gone—the annoyed expression on Erica's face tells Stiles that he'll have to do some grovelling later when Parrish is gone if he wants to make it up to her—he returns his attention to the deputy, offering a hand to help him up again. He waits until Parrish puts his gun back in its holster before continuing. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes...werewolves. As you've just seen, they're very real." He goes on to explain all of the basics, about the pack and its hierarchy, his place by Derek's side and a brief overview of everything that's happened over the past year and a half since it all started. He pats Parrish on the knee when the man just stares at him, feeling a little bad about being the one to make him aware of his ignorance.

It's sadly a necessity, though, because he simply can't let the well-meaning deputy walk away with such terrible misconceptions about his mate.

Parrish remains silent through the entirely of Stiles' explanation, struggling to comprehend everything he's being told. If he's honest with himself, when he thinks back to all the strange things he's seen in the news and while working his shifts down at the station, all the pieces seem to fit together and make sense.

In the end, when they move on to discuss things in more depth, Stiles lays out several pieces of paper on the coffee table and writes it all down. It becomes something of a timeline, detailing all of the events that lead up to that moment, and Parrish is understandably shocked when he's told of what really happened to the late sheriff all those months ago. "So Derek's uncle Landon is the one who killed your dad? And then _you_ killed _him_? This is crazy!" he rants, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. He feels a little betrayed about being kept in the dark about that particular part for so long, but after thinking it over for a minute, he supposes he understands why. It is an awfully big secret, and he's seen enough science fiction movies to know that supernatural creatures becoming known to the general populous never works out well.

Still, he never for a second thought it would be a situation he'd face in real life.

"Basically, yes," Stiles replies, popping the cap back on the pen he was using and leaning back into the sofa cushions. His stitches have started to get a little sore from his being curled forward for so long, and he sighs in relief when the pain begins ebbing off again.

"So what's happening now? You still haven't given me another explanation about who did _that_ to you," Parrish points out, his eyes flicking pointedly between Stiles' sides.

Averting his eyes, Stiles swallows tightly and finally picks his shirt up again to put back on. He doesn't want any more staring. "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that part..." he chuckles darkly, thankful that Isaac has stuck around the entire time to provide moral support. He knows that Parrish is a good person, and he's taking having his world turned on its head surprisingly well, but discussing his personal life with the older man still makes him uncomfortable. There's also the small worry in the back of his mind that Parrish will still blame Derek after he finds out the truth. Erica and Boyd pop their heads through from the kitchen before he can open his mouth again, wanting to be around, too. He lets them under the condition that the blonde keeps it together from then on.

Once everyone is gathered on the sofas again, Boyd and Erica at his sides, Isaac sat between his legs, and Parrish in one of the armchairs, Stiles looks back at the deputy. "We're still not really sure what's going on, but I think there's someone new in town messing with us," he explains.

When Parrish's eyes flick down to Stiles' hand, he realises that he's begun absentmindedly running his fingers through Isaac's hair, much to the beta's pleasure. "Pack thing," he dismisses, his cheeks heating up even though he tries to keep his tone casual. "Anyway...this person's been casting spells or putting curses on us all one at a time. It's supposed to tap into a person's fears and manifest them in fucked up ways. Erica and Isaac were the first to be affected, and yesterday, Derek was, too. I know him well enough by now to know that one of his biggest fears is hurting the people he loves, and I took the brunt of it. It wasn't his fault."

"Where is he now...?" Parrish asks nervously, glancing up at the ceiling like he thinks his presence is causing the man in question to hide away up there, scared of arrest.

"That's what we were trying to work out before you showed up; I have no clue where he's gone. All I know is that he took off after it happened, probably blaming himself and thinking that I hate him now..." Stiles replies, sighing tiredly. As much as he loves him, his mate's tendency to blame himself for everything does get a little tiring every now and then. "Now that we're on the subject, why are you here?" He realises how rude his question could sound and hastens to expand on it.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, because I am—it's been too long, really. I'm just curious..."

Parrish is glad that the conversation is shifting into something more normal; he finds it much easier to deal with. "I missed seeing you down at the station, and after I ran into Derek last week, I thought I'd come see how you were doing," he explains, shrugging.

"I'm flattered," Stiles chuckles, wincing when the gentle shaking of his body causes his injuries to make themselves known again. He quickly calms himself down to avoid more of it. "Well, you're always welcome to stop by, I suppose. I know I'd be happy to see some more of you, and though I think Derek'll be a little miffed that I let you in on our furry little secret without his input, I'm sure he'll deal when I explain to him why it was necessary. Who knows—maybe this'll actually make things easier. I'm sure there'll be more supernatural shit happening in this town for years to come, and it'll probably be helpful to have someone who's part of the law in the know. That position used to be filled by my dad, but...you know. Just don't tell anyone else, OK? This is all dangerous enough without more people knowing, and if they did, they'd be in danger, too."

"I promise," Parrish replies, nodding.

* * *

"Where did Stiles say it happened again?" Allison asks as she gets into the back of Lydia's car. School has just let out for the day, and she, Lydia and Scott have plans to check out the site of the most recent attack to see if they can find any clues.

"Somewhere in the preserve, just a few minutes from the house, I think," Lydia answers readily, easily remembering everything Stiles said the previous evening. There's still the tiniest bit of anger bubbling just beneath the surface of her carefully held veneer, caused by Jackson's refusal to join the trio on their quest. It was another moment during which she wondered why she loves the irritating and stubborn beta, especially given that he still maintains his old selfish attitude. The day felt strange with some members missing from their little pack, but even so, she went about it like it was any other, wanting to keep up appearances. Since she and Stiles usually share all of their classes that day, she made two copies of all of her notes just so he doesn't end up falling behind. Even though she did it purely out of the goodness of her heart, she thinks that if the boy decides he wants to repay her for her tireless efforts, she won't be saying 'no'.

Leaving his bike in the lot to pick up later, Scott gets in the backseat of Lydia's car next to Allison and straps himself in. "I still can't believe that happened..." he mumbles, rubbing absently at his chest. There's been a constant ache there ever since the previous evening, presumably because of his strong connection to Stiles.

"Yeah, well...let's not get into that again just now," Lydia suggests as she presses her foot down on the pedal, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

It only takes a few minutes for the trio to come to a stop next to the outskirts of the preserve, the redhead locking her car up after everyone gets out. They stick close together as they trek through the trees, just in case whoever attacked Stiles and Derek decides to come back for another go. Scott uses his nose to guide the way, picking up on the faint scent of magic almost immediately and following it. He remembers overhearing a conversation between Stiles and Deaton not too long ago—the vet was explaining how magic smells different from person to person, like a signature that will tell curious noses just who cast what. Because the scent he's tracking now is nothing like what he's picked up whenever he's been witness to Stiles performing magic, he assumes it must belong to the stranger who has decided to wreak havoc on their lives and cause them all trouble.

The smell stays faint for a long time before suddenly increasing in potency.

Scott picks up his pace as it gets stronger and stronger, not stopping until the trees part into a clearing. He sees evidence of a fight everywhere he looks, from the disturbed dirt on the ground to the scorch mark on one of the opposite trees. "I guess this is the place," he says needlessly as Allison and Lydia catch up to him.

"Looks like it," Allison concurs, holding her arms out to balance herself as he makes her way down the steep slope leading to the bottom of the clearing.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Scott asks, choosing to stay at the top of the incline and keep watch. Something catches his eye on the ground, and when he crouches down to get a better look, he finds a small puddle of clear, viscous fluid that somehow still looks fresh. Smaller droplets of the stuff are scattered around the puddle, like it splattered off of whatever it impacted on. Assuming it's left over from the previous afternoon's attack, Scott finds it odd that it hasn't even started drying. When he sticks a curious finger into it, he recoils in shock when the tip of the digit instantly starts burning. "Ouch! I think this is what was thrown at Derek... That shit hurts!" He holds his finger close to his chest as if he's shielding something precious from harm.

Rolling her eyes, Lydia joins Allison at the bottom of the clearing. "Of course it does, you idiot... It practically burned all the skin on Derek's hands off..." she reminds him. "And to answer your question, we're looking for any clues that'll reveal who this mysterious new villain is."

Nodding his understanding, Scott checks his finger again and feels relief when he sees the skin is no longer red and irritated. He keeps a wide berth from the clear fluid from then on.

Kneeling down on the ground, Allison looks over the scuff marks in the dirt and picks out what she thinks is a complete footprint. Putting her own foot next to it, she deduces that the print is only a size or two larger than her shoe. This leads her to the conclusion that their new enemy is most likely female, though she guesses they could still be a man with smaller than average feet. She's brought out of her musing when Lydia calls out to her and Scott, and she quickly stands again to make her way over to the redhead to see what other clue has been found.

"Look at this!" Lydia says excitedly as she reaches for something hidden between two tree roots, her fingers latching onto a thin chain. After some gentle tugging to unstick it, she pulls the object out and lays it on her palm for Scott and Allison to see.

Derek's original triskelion necklace glints up at them in the sunlight.

A frown appears on all of their faces when they see that it's damaged, mostly likely beyond repair, with half of the pendant melted and twisted at a strange angle and the ruby gone entirely. "I guess this is how they're casting their spells on us," Lydia theorises, turning the necklace over in her hands. "One of you should text the others and ask if they've noticed anything going missing recently. I think I read somewhere that spells like this are stronger if they use something of great sentimental value, so they should check everything like that first." On the third rotation, she notices something tangled in the small ring through which the chain and the pendant are connected. It's a blonde hair, long and slightly greasy. Grimacing as she extricates it, she wonders whether it belonged to their mystery attacker and if it can be used in a locator spell or something—she guesses there's no harm in trying.

With that, she tucks the necklace and the hair into one of her skirt pockets for safekeeping, planning on returning the former to Derek whenever he finally reappears and bringing the latter up with Stiles after he and his mate are reunited. She hopes they both happen soon. Following one last sweep of the area, she calls their investigation to an end.

Scott once again leads the two girls on the way back to Lydia's car.

"I'm going to check over all my possessions very closely when I get home, and I suggest the two of you do the same," the banshee instructs when her vehicle comes back into view and she opens the driver's-side door. Sliding behind the wheel, she checks her hair in the mirror before sticking the keys in the ignition and reversing back out onto the road.

* * *

Parrish departs for the station a little while later, following a promise that he'll come back for dinner one night once the current threat has passed and everything has settled down again. Much to Stiles' dismay, Erica, Isaac and Boyd also leave shortly after the deputy, spouting off apologies and excuses that their parents and Melissa want them home earlier that usual because they skipped school that day. This leaves Stiles alone in the house with his thoughts, a dangerous turn of events given the true state of his mind. To pass the time, he goes upstairs to his and Derek's bedroom and tries to clean his blood out of their carpet. He can't work at it as hard as he would like because of his injuries—Melissa can be incredibly intimidating, so he doesn't want her getting mad at him should he pull his stitches—but it doesn't really matter. No amount of scrubbing could get rid of the two rather sizeable red patches on the otherwise cream-coloured carpet.

Reaching the conclusion that he'll just have to take the whole thing up when he's feeling better, he prays that his recovery his fast; he doesn't want the reminder to still be there when Derek returns.

Giving up on his cleaning, Stiles switches off the light and grabs one of Derek's sweaters before tucking himself and it into bed to watch brainless television. He holds the sweater up to his nose and breathes in Derek's scent, hoping he'll be able to trick himself into not feeling the man's absence as deeply. Unfortunately, it doesn't work, and every second that Derek isn't there with him, his mind races with endless possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Will he ever see Derek again? Is he out there somewhere, hurting himself out of guilt? What will things be like if he _does_ come back?

Wiping angrily at his eyes when a tear slips out and trails down his cheek, Stiles wants to slap himself for getting so worked up. Because he hid how much emotional pain he was really in from the betas all day, there's not much he can do to stop his anguish now that he's finally beginning to let it out.

He finds himself curled up on his side, desperately trying to keep quiet as he sobs into Derek's sweater, the television going forgotten and turning into nothing but white noise. Each new sob that claws its way out of his throat jerks his body and sends new waves of pain through him, his stitches threatening to pull and break. Eventually, his cries get quieter until they stop completely. He just lies there beneath the blankets as the occasional tear runs unbidden down onto the pillow beneath his head. His nose is still buried into the soft fabric of Derek's sweater and his eyes are blank as he stares at the opposite wall, the bed feeling cold and unwelcoming without his mate's warm body pressed up behind him, keeping him toasty and comfortable.

The rest of the night passes by at a snail's pace, the numbers on the clock on the nightstand changing slowly like they're taunting him.

* * *

Like she said she would do, as soon as Lydia drops Allison and Scott off at the latter's house—the heated looks they gave each other as they got out of her car left absolutely no doubt in her mind as to what they would be doing as soon as they were left to their own devices, especially not when she spied Kira waiting for them on the doorstep—she begins sorting through all of her possessions, looking for anything missing or out of place. She stops off at the school first to check her locker, glad that it's staying open late that day because of a chess club meeting. When she passes the quiet room in which it's taking place, she stops briefly to look through the little window in the door, shaking her head when she sees pairs of stereotypically nerdy boys spread out across the desks, divided up into their own games. Scores are written up on the blackboard, so she guesses they must be participating in some sort of tournament.

"I'll never get it..." Lydia mumbles to herself as she continues on her mission, rounding the corner to the corridor in which her locker resides. Even though she considers herself something of an expert in the game, so much so that she could probably best each one of the club's members without blinking, she doesn't find enough enjoyment in it to understand spending week after week obsessing over it. Still, she guesses it's just another case of 'different strokes for different folks', as the saying goes.

Finally reaching her locker, she enters the combination easily before opening it and running a careful eye over everything kept within.

She doesn't really expect anything to be different than the last time she saw it—it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that whoever is terrorising them all has already collected what they need from everybody—but she doesn't see the harm in checking just to be sure.

A five-minute search proves her theory to be correct, and it's not much longer before she's closing the door and leaving again, with the intent to turn her entire bedroom upside down. She checks her hair and makeup in her car's rearview mirror before peeling out of the parking lot, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as she palms Derek's ruined triskelion necklace through her skirt pocket with the other. She contemplates the implications of the find again, wondering how it came be in the state in which she found it and why it was left where it was.

It doesn't make any sense.

When she pulls her car to a stop outside of her house and opens the driver's-side door, Lydia pauses before shutting it again when she feels an itch at the base of her skull, like someone's watching her. She whips her head from side to side to see if she can spot anyone, but the area appears completely deserted.

It reminds her unnervingly of the similar incident that took place almost a full month previous, right after she finished watching a movie with some packmates.

The thought creeping her out more than she would care to admit, she scurries inside her house, not wanting to be out in the open by herself any longer. She makes sure to lock the door behind herself before heading straight up the stairs to her bedroom and tossing her bag down on top of the sheets of her bed. A shiver runs through her body when she realises how cold it is, and when she glances over at the window, she finds out why. It's wide open, the curtains blowing wildly as frigid air filters through it. Rushing over, she slams it shut, frowning when she thinks back to earlier that morning. It's not a good sign that she doesn't remember leaving it open.

* * *

_\- Monday, September 17th, 2012 -_

Derek doesn't return until almost two full weeks have crawled slowly past. Stiles spends that time walking through his life like a zombie, putting the least amount of effort into everything because he just can't find the energy or motivation to do more. His mind is elsewhere. Everybody at school stares at him constantly, and he can't blame them. He knows how much of a mess he looks, putting no thought into his appearance whatsoever after each sunrise comes and his mate still isn't in bed next to him. The only saving grace is that his long-sleeved flannel overshirts hide the claw marks on his arms and sides from prying eyes. The entire time, Lydia tries to pick up the slack when it comes to his school work, doing all of his assignments for him so he doesn't get into too much trouble with his teachers, but even her generosity and amazing intellect can only stretch so far.

Stiles supposes his rapidly deteriorating mental state is made worse by his and Derek's mating bond. He would feel terrible about what happened anyway, but when the alpha's emotions are added on top of his own, it's enough to make his chest literally ache each second he's awake. Sleep is hard to come by, so he feels it nearly all the time. He can tell that the pack, Charlie and even his teachers are worried about him, but he can't find it in himself to care.

He just ignores any worried glances and answers all questions about his wellbeing with monotonous repetitions of, "I'm fine," that ease no one's concern.

When Stiles gets home from school, he tosses his backpack over the back of the living room sofa and walks through to the kitchen to get himself a drink of water—the fact that he hasn't had anything to eat or drink since he woke up that morning has left his throat feeling particularly dry. Because his stomach wouldn't be able to keep it down anyway, he didn't see the point in trying until, as he was leaving for the day, Erica stormed over to him in the school parking lot and slapped him across the face. The words that followed were what made him rethink his earlier decision, and they play back through his mind as he gulps down the ice-cold liquid:

 _"You listen and you listen good, Stiles Stilinski! It's bad enough that Derek's off somewhere wallowing in his man-pain and leaving us to deal with the fallout, but I swear to_ God _, Stiles, if you don't snap the fuck out of this right now and actually start taking care of yourself, then I'm gonna kill you myself!"_

By this point, the loudness of Erica's voice had drawn quite a crowd, every one of the other students in the surrounding area curious to see what the commotion was about.

 _"Even that would be better than watching you waste away like this again. I can't go through that a second time, and even though no one else has the guts to say it, I know they can't either. Derek'll come back whenever he manages to get his head out of his ass, and don't you think it would be good if he came back to a mate that isn't a total wreck? The sight of you like this is just going to send him spiralling over the edge, too, and then this pack will be down an alpha_ and _an alpha's mate. Things better be different when I see you tomorrow, Stiles... At the very least, I actually want to see you eat something."_

Those were the last words spoken, and Stiles was in too much shock to even make an attempt at replying. Erica had then pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing hug before scurrying away to rejoin Boyd and Isaac on the other side of the lot, wiping hastily at her eyes as she went.

He'll have to give Erica a proper thank you the next time he sees her, because that was the wakeup call he sorely needed.

Even if he's not doing it for himself, he knows the blonde beta was right. Derek will need someone to lean on whenever he reappears, someone to tell him there wasn't anything he could have done and to assure him that nobody lays the blame for what happened on him. Stiles will be that person. He's determined not to let this break them, so once all the water is drained from the fresh bottle still in his hand, he throws it carelessly in the direction of the recycling bin before grabbing some leftover Chinese food from the fridge and forcing it down his throat. Someone from the pack has been in the house with him at all times—even Jackson, though Stiles suspects Lydia played a hand in that one—and he's glad for it now since it means he actually has something to eat. He's been seriously slacking in his duties for the past couple of weeks, leaving the cupboards and pantry nearly bare.

It's when Stiles is halfway through making a mental list of the essentials he'll need to stock back up on that he hears the front door open. Assuming that it's just another of the betas coming to check on him, he gets a big surprise when he walks into the foyer and sees who's really standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Derek...?" he croaks, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide.

The alpha in front of him looks absolutely terrible, like a shadow of his former self. The clothes he must have quickly put on before fleeing the house are torn up and caked in dirt.

When it doesn't seem like Derek even heard him—the man remains frozen in place, staring down at the floor without so much as a twitch—Stiles hesitantly closes the distance between them and reaches out to touch his wolf's shoulder with a shaking hand. He wants to put up a brave face, but the fear that Derek may not be over whatever it was that caused him to attack the last time is right in the forefront of his mind, making him overly cautious. When their skin touches, he doesn't know whether to be relieved or not when his mate still doesn't react. The fact that his head is still attached is a plus, he supposes. "Der?" he asks again, his voice stronger this time.

Skin-to-skin contact combined with the second calling of his name seems to finally break Derek out of his own thoughts, his head snapping up and their eyes meeting. The tortured expression Stiles sees on the man's face makes his chest constrict, his heart faltering.

"Let's...let's get you cleaned up, OK?" Stiles offers, walking around Derek to head up the stairs. He doesn't have to look over his shoulder to know that his wolf is following, as the man's footsteps are oddly loud in the otherwise silent house. Once he gets into the bedroom, he's surprised when Derek just continues walking right past him, straight into the bathroom. The door gets closed in his face before he can follow. Guessing that Derek just needs some time to gather himself and his thoughts, Stiles allows the distance. He'd be lying if he said being around his mate again didn't make him feel a little anxious and uncomfortable, and he hates with a passion whoever the stranger was that they encountered in the preserve for destroying their previously easy companionship.

Truthfully, there's a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to run, to get out while he still has the chance. He ignores it, knowing—or hoping—that it's irrational.

While he waits for Derek to finish up in the bathroom, Stiles busies himself with cleaning. In his depression, he let their bedroom descend into a total pigsty; clothes are scattered across the floor, the carpet is still stained with his blood and other remnants from the last time they were together, and there's even shattered glass at the bottom of one of the walls. He let his anger at the whole situation get the better of him one night, and the glass of water he'd carried to bed with him was his outlet.

Coming to a stop in front of their dresser, Stiles pulls open one of the drawers and gets out a pair of Derek's sweatpants and his favourite of the man's shirts. It's v-necked, made of incredibly soft material, and brings out the startlingly beautiful colour of his wolf's eyes.

The bathroom door isn't locked, so he sneaks in briefly and places the clothes on the closed toilet seat. He doesn't even glance in the direction of the fogged-up shower, allowing Derek his privacy.

Since there's nothing he can really do about the blood-stained carpet in that moment, Stiles just gets a large towel from the linen closet and tosses it over the affected area like a rug. He guesses that's one of the reasons Derek hightailed it into the bathroom, to avoid having to look at a reminder of what happened and what he did. Stiles knows it wasn't actually Derek's fault, but he also knows the alpha's opinion on the matter is sure to differ greatly from his own. It's after he's smoothed out the towel and taken a seat on the bed that the bathroom door finally opens, with Derek emerging through it a few seconds later following a billowing of steam.

The man is dressed in the clothes Stiles picked out for him, and his posture is rigid, his body language just screaming how uncertain he is, like he's not sure he's welcome there any longer. The way Derek's eyes dart from the floor over to the open bedroom door just confirms this theory. Stiles can't have that, so before the man can make his escape, he reaches over and pulls him down next to himself on the mattress.

Derek lets himself be moved, though he keeps a sizeable distance between them both the entire time. He doesn't trust himself to be close to Stiles again just yet.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles figures it's best if he just dives right into the conversation he knows will be necessary for them to begin healing and moving on from this rough patch. "Look at me, Derek," he begins, keeping his tone as gentle and soothing as he can in an effort to make his wolf feel more at ease. He shuffles a little bit closer to the man when he keeps his eyes cast down, tilting the man's head up with a finger under his chin until he has no choice but to obey. "Der...I know what you're thinking, and I have to start this off by telling you that you're wrong. None of the fault for this lies with you, and no one else in the pack thinks otherwise." This finally gets a reaction, emotion appearing back in Derek's eyes. The disbelief the hazel orbs carry is heartbreaking.

"How can you say that?" the alpha chokes out. His voice is tight, his words sounding like they were ripped bloodily from his chest. "I hurt you! What I did was unforgivable..."

Choosing his words carefully, Stiles gets braver, his surety that Derek won't take off again growing stronger every second that passes with the man remaining seated right next to him. He brings them closer still, their sides almost touching, and moves his hand until his wolf's bearded cheek is cupped in his palm. "You're right—what you did was unforgivable," he agrees, soldiering on when Derek's eyes close with resignation and a lone tear slips free to run down onto his hand, "because there's absolutely nothing for me to forgive."

Mindful of the injuries he has that are still healing, Stiles gets up onto his knees and swings himself around so that he ends up perched in Derek's lap. He tilts the alpha's head back more and rests their foreheads together before continuing.

"The only person at fault here is whoever that asshole was in the preserve. _They're_ the one who did this, not you," he whispers, bumping their noses together. The corners of his mouth turn up when he thinks he's finally getting through to Derek, his mate's hands latching on tightly to the back of his shirt and a shuddering breath puffing out across his lips. "The only thing I'm a little mad about is that it took you so long to come back, but I understand if you needed that long to work up the courage to face me again. But that's a conversation we can have later. I know it's going to take a while for you to really believe me since it's still in your nature to hold on to every little piece of baggage like a sort of self-imposed punishment, but for me, nothing's changed. I still love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. I'm still yours and you're still mine, and it's going to stay that way until we both die, and probably even after.

"You're my Sourwolf."

Stiles gasps in shock when Derek's arms wrap fully around him and pull their bodies flush together. The stitches in his sides pull dangerously, but he ignores the pain when he feels Derek shaking gently against him. He's baffled at first, not immediately realising what's happening, but his mind catches on quickly a few seconds later. It's like a dam breaking.

After Derek tucks his face into Stiles' neck and takes one last shuddering breath, a series of gut-wrenching sobs tear their way out from his throat as he releases all reins on his emotions for the first time in almost a decade.

The front of Stiles' shirt is quickly soaked through with the man's tears. All he can do is rest his chin atop Derek's head and run his hands soothingly up and down his back while he waits it out. He doesn't shush the alpha at all, guessing that he needs to get everything out and release all of his emotions at once. This outpouring has probably been held back and ignored for far too long to be considered healthy, lying just beneath the surface, waiting. Stiles is a little surprised that Derek is finally letting it out now, and it's a little disconcerting to see his usually strong and stoic mate crying and sobbing openly like he is, but he's grateful for it nevertheless. He holds on to the man just as tightly, the constricted feeling that's been in his chest for the past two weeks finally easing off and fading slowly with each new tear Derek sheds.

It's only when he catches the gasped apologies beginning to fall from his wolf's lips that Stiles tries to bring the man back down.

"Shh, it's OK, you're OK..." he coos quietly, pressing his lips to the dark strands of Derek's hair. He removes the alpha's face from his neck and starts peppering the tear-wet skin with more chaste kisses, paying no mind to the salt that gets on his tongue. He places the last one directly on Derek's lips, keeping them connected and sighing when his wolf lets him in and returns it.

The kiss goes on for several long minutes until Derek pulls away with one final sniffle. Stiles smiles down at him kindly as he wipes the last few tears from his cheeks. Even though his beard has grown long and wild, his face is blotchy, and his eyes are red and puffy from crying, he still thinks Derek is most gorgeous man he's ever met. "You feeling any better now?" he asks eventually, after they continue to just stare into each other's eyes silently for an indeterminate amount of time. He's glad when Derek nods a second later, looking away as his already-coloured cheeks become even more so with embarrassment. "C'mon. I was planning on getting something to eat before you showed up, and I'm betting you're hungry, too."


	16. Healing

Stiles leaves Derek to make another stop in the bathroom so he can put himself back together.

Heading downstairs to the kitchen, he gets the rest of the leftover Chinese food out of the fridge and piles it all onto large plate before sticking it in the microwave. He stands and watches it spin around and around as he listens to the faint sounds that echo through the ceiling, which turn into footsteps on the stairs. The microwave dings to signal that the food is done right as Derek enters the room and takes a seat around the island, and Stiles gives himself a pat on the back for timing things so perfectly.

After placing the plate in front of Derek, complete with a fork, he sits on the opposite side of the island and works up the courage to ask the alpha where he's been for the past two weeks. From the state of his clothes when he arrived, he mustn't have been taking very good care of himself. Stiles assumes that his wolf must have sequestered himself away somewhere, deep in the woods of a neighbouring town. The Chinese food disappears down Derek's throat at such an alarming rate that he guesses the man didn't eat that often. The image he creates in his head of Derek chasing after wild animals is so ridiculous that he can't stop a small chuckle from slipping out, but he cuts it short when Derek pauses in his eating to stare at him speculatively, a worried expression on his face.

"It's nothing," Stiles dismisses easily, clearing his throat and leaning his elbows on the countertop. He braces himself for the shift in mood his next words are bound to cause. "So...where've you been?"

Swallowing tightly, Derek sets his fork back down on his plate and pushes it away.

He doesn't want to be tempted to dig back in again until the new conversation is over, knowing that Stiles deserves to get answers. "After what happened...I don't really know what was going through my head," he begins, finding that he's unable to meet Stiles' eyes. He feels unpleasantly vulnerable all of a sudden, even though his mate is the only other person present, so he wraps his arms around his torso protectively. "When I came back to myself, my knot had just gone down and you were just lying there beneath me, out cold and bleeding all over the place. My claws were all bloody, so there wasn't a doubt in my mind that I was the one who did that to you, and I just...panicked."

When Stiles slides a hand out across the countertop, reaching for him, Derek leans back on his stool and instantly feels bad when the teen's face falls, the hurt undeniable. He can't let himself be comforted yet, not when there's still so much left to talk about.

If he stops halfway through, he knows he wouldn't be able to pick it back up later.

"I put on the first clothes I could find and ran as far as I could," he pushes on, digging his nails into his sides to distract himself from the nearly overwhelming sense of guilt that forms in his chest and makes his heart stutter. "I thought you'd hate me when you woke up and I didn't want to be around to hear what you'd say. I was several miles away by the time I stopped running. I stayed away from the towns that were near me because I knew how I would look to everyone. Whatever spell was put on me really messed me up for most of the time I was gone. I don't even remember what I was doing for most of it, but I didn't starve to death, so there's that." He coughs awkwardly, feeling a little grateful for not having any memory of what he must've done to sustain himself in the wilderness. It wouldn't have been pretty. "Anyway, whatever fog was in my mind cleared up a couple of days ago.

"I could feel you, how upset you were and how angry the rest of the pack was, and at first I thought it was all aimed at me. But after a while, I told myself I was just being stupid...so I came back."

Stiles listens to Derek's explanation with an open mind, wanting to get into his wolf's head and truly understand everything he's hearing. "I get that, I really do, but you have to understand that no one in the pack blames you," he assures again, guessing those are words he'll be repeating for a long time until Derek actually starts to believe them.

Sure enough, when the man finally meets his eyes again, he can clearly see the guilt and self-hatred that still lurks in their enchanting depths. "There's something else I was wondering about, too..." he continues, pausing when Derek looks at him curiously, waiting.

Taking a long breath, he readies himself to ask a question he's been mulling over for days, one he bets won't be received very well. "That curse...if it was the same one put on Isaac and Erica, then I want to know why it did what it did to you," he requests, swallowing tightly when Derek quickly looks down at the uneaten food on his plate again. "There must be something you're scared of, something you haven't told me that caused it to happen like _that_. I think I already have some idea of what it is, and you don't have to answer me right now, but I do want to know soon. Whoever is doing this is still out there, and as long as you hold onto those fears and feelings, there's always a chance of something like that happening again. I don't want either of us to go through that a second time."

Nodding his acquiescence, Derek pulls his plate closer again and finishes his dinner.

He keeps his senses focused on Stiles the entire time, his eyes trained on his food for the most part as he just listens to his mate shuffle about the kitchen, cleaning it. Every minute or so, though, he allows himself a quick glance at the boy, but he's always quick so he doesn't get caught.

It doesn't escape him that Stiles' movements aren't as free as they normally are, and when the teen stretches up to put something away on top of one of the cupboards and his midriff becomes exposed, he knows why. His inner turmoil only gets worse when he gets a glimpse at the stitches still holding Stiles' skin together. About five minutes later, after Stiles has disappeared into the living room, Derek takes his last bite and deposits his plate and fork in the dishwasher before going to see where the teen has gotten to.

He finds Stiles sat in the middle of the sofa, writing furiously in the notebook balanced on his thigh. Several of his school books lay open on the coffee table in the front of him.

Wanting to keep his distance until he works up the nerve to give the teen the answers he needs, Derek leaves him to it and goes back upstairs to take care of his overgrown beard, which itches in the worst way. When he sees himself in the mirror above the sink, his eyes widen when he realises just how wild he looks. Before, he didn't notice how much his physical state had deteriorated in the time he was gone—when he was showering, his attention was too focused on the heart beating rapidly out in the bedroom to take in much else. Even though all the dirt, blood and grime is gone from his hair and skin, he could still easily pass as someone who lives by themselves on a remote island that's completely devoid of civilisation. He looks primitive, especially when he adds in his sunken cheeks and eyes. Retrieving his razor, he trims his beard short again, to the length Stiles has said he likes the best.

It does wonders to make him look like himself again.

The time alone gives him a chance to think over Stiles' question more closely, and it's not long before he comes up with the answer. Honestly, he knew what it was back down in the kitchen, but his willingness to delve into all of those carefully tucked-away feelings hadn't appeared yet.

 _It always comes back to her_ , he thinks wryly, wishing for the day to come fast where he's able to leave his past behind completely and move on. Discussing it all now and getting it all out on the table may be just what he needs to do to make a start at that. It'll get the ball rolling at the very least, and because that's the worst outcome he can see, he knows he needs to be brave and bite the bullet.

After cleaning the hairs from the sink, Derek checks himself over one last time in the mirror and nods approvingly before turning off the light and exiting into the bedroom.

Looking at the clock on Stiles' nightstand, he finds that time is passing surprisingly quickly. He was apparently lost in his thoughts in the bathroom for almost a full hour, and he guesses that explains why the sky looks orange instead of blue when he steps over to the window and draws back the curtains to look outside. His foot catches on something on the floor, and when he looks down, he frowns at the towel he finds laid out across the carpet. Kneeling down, he carefully peels it back and recoils in disgust when he sees the blood stains beneath—its dried brown colour is a stark contrast to the pale cream it should be. Deciding it's best for his own sanity if he leaves the towel where it is for the time being, he gets a random book from the small bookcase that's positioned next to the dresser and settles on the bed to read.

A distraction is just what he needs until Stiles finishes downstairs and comes up to join him.

He's quick to get sucked into the story, so much so that he doesn't hear his mate approaching until the bedroom door is opened and the teen actually steps through it. He watches as Stiles gathers some sleep clothes before heading to the bathroom, returning his small smile before he shuts the door.

Putting his bookmark in place, Derek sets the book down on the nightstand before pulling the sheets out from under his body and tucking himself in.

It gives him a fleeting sense of security, one he knows he'll definitely need for the discussion he's about to start. Switching off the bedside lamp helps to further create the illusion of safety, like he's in his own little world where nothing and no one can hurt him or the people he loves. He rests his head back against the pillows and just listens to the sound of the tap running in the next room, to Stiles brushing his teeth and mumbling to himself about something unknown under his breath. The sense of normalcy this gives him is immensely comforting, but it's short-lived, fading away again as soon as the bathroom door opens and Stiles steps back into the room. Things feel awkward for a while after the teen slides beneath the sheets on the other side of the bed, carefully keeping some distance between them. All of the courage Derek managed to gather beforehand is annoyingly nowhere to be found, and his tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Luckily, his mate seems to know that he wants to speak even if he can't make himself.

"You seem tense," Stiles mumbles into the darkness. He turns over onto his side so that he's facing Derek when the man hums his assent, tucking a hand beneath his cheek to lean on. This allows him to see more of Derek's face, what little he can make out of it in the dark.

Staying lying on his back, Derek reaches over blindly until the back of his hand touches Stiles' stomach, and he squeezes back gratefully when it's almost instantly taken and held in the teen's smaller one. When he finally manages to open his mouth, his voice already sounds rough with tightly held emotion, a realisation that makes him shake his head at himself with annoyance. "I've been thinking about what you said earlier, when you asked me why the curse did what it did," he starts, glad when Stiles remains quiet, letting him talk uninterrupted. "I think it's pretty obvious what I'm scared of—the people I love getting hurt because of me. Logically, I know you're right when you say that what happened wasn't my fault, but I can't bring myself to actually believe it. I can't help but feel guilty for you being hurt. Old habits are hard to break, it seems."

He sighs deeply before finally venturing into what he knows will be the most difficult part of the conversation to get through, at least for him. "I guess if I had to pick a point where it all started...that point would be when Kate first appeared."

It takes a lot of restraint for Stiles to remain where he is on the bed.

He can tell clearly that Derek is struggling to get the words out, both through their bond and from the shaking of his voice, and his first instinct is to pull his wolf into his arms and soothe all the pain away. He knows, though, that maintaining the distance between them is a good thing. Holding Derek's hand in his own is probably already pushing it a little, so he stays right where he is and listens silently to everything that comes out of the alpha's mouth.

"I suppose I can say that I was content before she came along, not really happy, but not really sad either. Just...existing," Derek continues, taking his hand back so that he can fiddle with a loose thread in the sheets, distracting himself a little. "I've never actually looked into whether it was legitimate, but one day, Kate showed up in place of one of my teachers, saying that he was ill and would be taking a temporary leave of absence until he got better. She was posing as a substitute, and I could tell right away that she had some interest in me, more than a teacher should have for one of their students. I ignored it at first, but her eyes definitely stayed on me longer than they did anyone else, and after she asked me to stay behind after class a couple of weeks in, things got more intense.

"She lied and said she needed to talk to me about one of my assignments, and the next thing I know, her hand is on my shoulder and she's leaning in to kiss me."

Actually learning in clear detail about how Derek was manipulated and used affects Stiles more than he thought it would, especially because it's coming from the man himself. Understandably, it's not exactly fun for him to hear about one of his mate's past relationships, but those feelings are swiftly overshadowed by horror and anger because he already knows its main ins and outs. At least, that's what he thought.

What Derek says next was still unknown to him, shocking him.

"I was a little freaked out and I pushed her away at first, but she just seemed so...nice about it all," Derek whispers, lost in his memories. It's the first time he's really allowed himself to think about those few months properly since the fire, and all the old emotions associated with them come roaring back. They seem even more potent because they were sealed away for so long. "She knew I found her attractive, and she used it to her advantage in every conceivable way after that day. Her clothes got slightly more revealing, never to the point where anyone else noticed anything, but because I was paying attention, I did. That's exactly what she wanted. She started giving me extra attention in class, lingering touches, that sort of stuff. I guess because it was all happening pretty soon after Paige and I still wasn't really feeling like myself again yet, she was able to get inside my head more easily.

"When we would pass each other in the halls, she'd say these little things to me, things I needed to hear that made me start trusting her more."

It's at this point that Stiles gives in to his urge to be closer, moving his hand from beneath his cheek and stretching his arm out until his fingers run through the silky, dark strands of Derek's freshly washed hair. He's pleased that this doesn't seem to overstep Derek's boundaries. The alpha pauses briefly in his storytelling to push back into his touch until his nails scratch lightly against the man's scalp.

"I was going to basketball practice a lot more regularly. My coach was delighted because, and not to brag, I was the best player on the team, and this made it easy for Kate to get me alone each time it let out and the other guys were already gone. In all honesty, I think I hung around for longer because I was hoping she'd show up..." Derek admits quietly, giving a humourless chuckle. He suppresses a disappointed whine when Stiles' fingers stop threading through his hair. "Anyway...a couple of weeks later, I stayed behind after class again to talk to her. I swear I was planning on putting my foot down and telling her to stop coming on to me, that I'd thought it over and didn't want to risk it anymore, but that's obviously not how things turned out. She kissed me again before I could even open mouth, and I got caught up in it, forgetting everything I wanted to say.

"It felt good to have someone want me again, and the fact that she was older and we weren't supposed to be doing it made it exciting. It probably sounds silly, but it made me feel _alive_ again.

"We had to be discreet for obvious reasons—I was underage and she was my teacher, so if anybody caught us, we'd both get into serious trouble. We would meet up in secret whenever we could, which was tricky because my mom was still keeping a close eye on me. At the time, I thought it because of what happened with Paige, but thinking about it now, she probably also wanted to make sure I didn't get any memories back of Landon and Jeremy before she thought I was ready."

Stiles mulls these words over for a second when Derek pauses again.

He guesses that Talia would've eventually returned the memories had she not died in the fire, and on top of everything else, the fact that Kate inadvertently caused Derek to live for years without knowing his favourite uncle existed makes his blood boil all over again.

"Still, we managed, and before I realised it, she made my whole life revolve around her. She knew it, too, and she definitely wasn't afraid to use it to her advantage," Derek explains, sighing. "I found myself ditching family get-togethers or making excuses to my friends about why I couldn't hang out with them just so I could sneak away with Kate. Everything she told me about her life was a lie specifically designed to ingratiate herself to me, but she seemed so genuine and I never once detected a skip in her heartbeat. We saw each other almost every day for about a month, and she got me to feel so comfortable around her that I eventually told her what I was, what my family was. She seemed shocked at first, which is what I expected, but she accepted it quickly and said that she still loved me, werewolf or human. Things got more serious then... On the night of the fire, she asked me to sneak out and meet her again—not an easy feat with a house full of werewolves, let me tell you. We met up in her car, all the way on the other side of town."

Stiles holds his breath as he waits to hear how the night ends, even though he already knows.

"Things seemed a little off for a while," Derek continues sadly, "and she kept checking her phone like she was waiting for something. I asked her what was wrong, and she made up some flimsy excuse and found a way to distract me. I mean, I was a teenage boy—a teenage boy who was a _werewolf_ , at that—so when she suddenly started making out with me, I forgot about how weird things started off.

"I guess she wanted to take one more thing from me that night, because the next thing I know, she's pulling off my clothes and saying that she's 'ready', that she wanted me to fuck her. I'd never... I'd never done anything like that before, with anyone, so I was willing. More than."

At this point, Stiles is more sure than ever that his theory about why the curse happened the way it did is correct, but he doesn't interrupt.

"She checked her phone one last time before it actually happened, and I suppose that's when her accomplices told her the fire had been set," Derek croaks, a single tear running down the side of his face and onto the pillow. He turns away from the touch when Stiles tries to wipe the moisture away, feeling like he doesn't deserve to be comforted. "It didn't last long, and when I..." he coughs awkwardly, "you know...I lost control of my wolf and shifted. That's when she showed her true colours. She said that she never loved me, that I was a freak for what I was and that I should just be put down before I could corrupt anyone else with my sickness. I was too shocked to say anything or even get angry—I couldn't believe how damn happy she looked, how much pleasure she took in ripping me to shreds like that... It was like she was a completely different person. Before I could get out of her car and leave, she got this twisted grin on her face that gave me chills, and she leaned in and whispered in my ear that I'd always be hers now.

"After that, she shoved me out of the car and told me to run off home, that there was a surprise waiting for me there that would make me feel better. I just wanted to get away from her, so I took a shortcut through the preserve, cursing myself for being so fucking _stupid_ , for giving myself to her like that."

All the thoughts Stiles has had in the past about how he wishes Kate's demise was bloodier and more drawn out are reaffirmed in his head.

Derek feels more tears roll down his cheeks he reaches the end of his tale. "I ran into Laura halfway there..." he whispers, blinking past the wetness in his eyes to stare blankly at the opposite wall. "She'd stayed behind after school for some club or meeting, and she could sense that something was wrong with me. Before I could tell her, though, she gasped in pain and doubled over before crumpling to the ground. It freaked me out, and when I touched her shoulder, her head snapped up and I saw that her eyes were red. I knew what it meant, but I couldn't believe it. I guess I had to see it for myself...

"The smell of smoke was suffocating. That's the main thing I remember, that and the screaming." He takes a shuddering breath, a deep ache forming in his chest as he feels the horror his words are instilling in Stiles through their bond.

"Mountain ash was spread around all the doors and windows—no one could get out and I couldn't go in to save them. That didn't stop me from trying anyway. Laura had to hold me back so I didn't hurt myself, but I gave up when the screams began to die down. All we could do was stand there and watch as the flames took everything from us... Peter told me after he resurrected himself that my mom sacrificed her own life to get everybody else down into the basement, hoping that they could use the catacombs to get out. But Kate thought of that, too, making escape impossible. Emergency services arrived shortly afterward, and because they were human, they could get in and search for survivors. Peter's was the only body they pulled out that wasn't lifeless, and we know how that story ends. I still don't know what happened to Cora that night, how in the world she managed to get out alive as well.

"After the fire was put out, I remember sitting in the back of the ambulance with Laura and looking up when I felt eyes on me. Kate was there, standing between the trees and watching her handiwork. Our eyes met and she smiled at me before slinking away. I was in too much shock to do or say anything. No one else seemed to notice her, so I didn't try to tell them.

"When the shock wore off, I was so ashamed that my naivety was the reason my family was dead that I kept quiet until Laura used an alpha command on me after we got settled in New York."

"That's why the curse happened the way it did," Stiles interjects when Derek goes silent, elaborating further when the alpha makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat a second later. "Kate used sex as a weapon against you, stealing your virginity away from you under false pretences and making you ashamed of what you are—her coup de grâce, if you will. Her doing that left you with the subconscious fear of doing the same thing to me, and the curse used that to hurt both of us."

Even though Derek never realised he had that fear before, what Stiles is saying makes so much sense to him that he can't understand how he didn't see it previously.

It's just another example of how observant his mate is and how much he himself isn't. While he still feels a lot of self-loathing and guilt, he has to admit that actually talking about one of the worst experiences of his life in more depth has relieved him of part of its weight. It's been constantly pressing on his chest for the past decade of his life, and it's nice to be rid of some of it. Stiles has coaxed him into opening up before, but he's never felt confident enough to let the teen in fully until now.

The hard part over, he finally tears his eyes away from the wall and turns his head to look instead at the boy in question. He never really thought he would, but the fact that he cannot see even a single trace of judgement in Stiles' eyes allows him to breathe easy again.

"I haven't even asked you how you are yet," he says eventually, embarrassed that he's thus far made everything all about him when Stiles must have been going through a lot, too. All of his memories of that night are still fuzzy, like an old black and white movie with some scenes missing, but they've been slowly clearing ever since he set foot inside the house again. One of the more vivid parts is when he raked his claws down Stiles' sides during his climax, splitting his skin open and making him bleed all over the carpet. He can still pick out the coppery scent if he focuses, though because it's dried and weeks old, it's thankfully mostly faded away. He reaches across the mattress and brushes his hand lightly up one of Stiles' shirt-covered sides, a relieved and tired smile appearing on his face when he tries to siphon off the teen's pain and finds there isn't any to take. "Can I see them?"

"Are you sure you want to? They're not pretty," Stiles responds uncertainly, sitting up and reaching for the neckline of his shirt.

When Derek nods with certainty, he pulls the material off over his head and turns to face the alpha so that he can see the ten lines of neat sutures that run down from his ribs to just above his hips. "They're healing pretty nicely; I had a checkup with Melissa yesterday, and she said she should be able to take them out soon, maybe in a couple of days." The black thread stands out against his pale skin, and he'll frankly be very glad to be rid of them.

Derek reaches out a tentative hand and skates his finger over one of the lines. He can't believe he took something as beautiful as Stiles' body and marred it so horribly. "I'm so sorry..." he says as he takes his hand back. He can tell the scarring is going to be bad, and his voice just begs for forgiveness.

"It's OK, Sourwolf," Stiles replies, looking down at his torso as well.

In all honesty, he's not too bothered by the pink lines he knows he'll see when Melissa takes the stitches out. He does however feel bad that for the rest of his life, Derek will have to see the evidence of what he did while under the curse's influence. If it would save the man from all of that, he would take the bite in a heartbeat, but not even lycanthropy can get rid of old scarring received while the person was still human. The mark on Scott's cheek is evidence of that fact.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" he exclaims after a few beats of silence, switching on the lamp on his bedside table so he doesn't have to rummage through the top drawer blindly.

Derek watches quietly, his mouth dropping open when Stiles reemerges and he sees what the teen has in his hand. He holds out his own and sniffles a little when both his old and his new triskelion necklaces are placed in the centre of his palm. "W-what?" he asks dumbly, immediately putting the new one on before examining the old one more closely. He doesn't know what he feels when he sees how twisted and misshapen it is, and he wonders what on earth happened to it to make it that way. In a way, he used to think of it as a symbol of Stiles' love for him, so seeing it in that state is a little sad. Still, he guesses he'll be OK if he keeps the new one with him.

"I've kind of been wearing the white gold one these past couple of weeks," Stiles explains sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck when Derek's eyes flick up to meet his and he gets a look at all the different emotions swirling within. "I missed you, and doing that made me feel closer to you."

"Oh..." Derek responds breathlessly, touched. "What about this one? Where'd you find it?" He holds up the gold pendant by the chain and watches as it spins, almost hypnotised.

Stiles puts his shirt back on when the chill of the room starts to get to him. He must have forgotten to turn the heating on again. "Lydia's the one who found it, actually," he corrects, sliding beneath the covers to warm himself up again. "She and a couple of the others went to check out the clearing we were attacked in the day after it happened. It was wedged between two tree roots. I guess that's what they used to enact the curse, and whatever the process was melted it a little. Lydia gave it to me last week to give back to you, if you wanted to keep it." He's not surprised when Derek immediately nods his head, putting the pendant safely on his nightstand before lying down next top him where he belongs. "It doesn't even look that bad. I mean, it's not a triskelion anymore, obviously, but it kind of looks like someone took some weird artsy sculpture and made a replica out of it from gold. It would actually be pretty cool-looking if you didn't know what it was originally."

Derek contemplates Stiles' words for a few seconds before an idea hits him. It might be too soon to actually do it, at least for a while, but the corner of his mouth still twitches and he feels a small sense of pride at how good the idea is. "OK," he accepts, keeping his excitement from his face so he doesn't accidentally give anything away ahead of time.

"Are we good?" Stiles asks after Derek gets comfortable, switching off the lamp and plunging them both once more into darkness.

Derek allows the teen to cuddle up to his side and rests his chin atop his head. "We're getting there," he replies eventually, his voice quiet. "I'm fine with this, but...I think it's going to be a while until this all goes away and we get back to how we were before it all happened. Don't worry, though; I know we'll get there." He presses a reassuring kiss to Stiles' forehead before closing his eyes and settling in for the night, humming in contentment when he feels a slender arm wrap tightly around his waist and pull them tighter together.

* * *

_\- Tuesday, September 18th, 2012 -_

Like Derek said, Stiles finds that things are a little awkward the following morning.

He wakes up alone again, the other side of the bed cold, and looks over at the clock on his nightstand. Sighing when he sees that it's nearing time for him to get up, he figures there's no point in staying in bed any longer, especially not when he's by himself. He spends a small amount of time getting ready in the bathroom before tossing on a random set of clothes and making his way downstairs to see where Derek has gotten to. Following the smell of hot food through to the kitchen, he finds his wolf standing in front of the stove, cooking something in a saucepan that smells suspiciously like bacon. "Hey," he greets, knowing Derek will have heard him coming but feeling the need to announce his presence anyway. When the alpha just glances over his shoulder and nods his reply, he has to stop himself from walking up behind the man and wrapping him in a lazy hug like he ordinarily would. If he thought Derek's breakdown and their subsequent discussion would speed things along, he's proven wrong.

He guesses that Derek will still need some time until he forgives himself enough to participate in those casual and affectionate touches again. The fact that they went to sleep pressed up close together probably only happened because Derek put himself in such a vulnerable state rehashing the most traumatic event in his life.

If that hadn't happened, Stiles guesses it would've been another cold night.

In fact, as he takes a seat around the island, Stiles theorises that it will still take quite a bit of time for things to go back to the way they were for _both_ of them. The distance Derek is keeping between them forces him to reevaluate the situation, and he lets himself be honest—he's not really ready to just jump straight back into how things were before either, not yet. He can't wait for that day, though. He misses being close to Derek already, the way they could just be around each other and feel one-hundred percent at ease.

Stiles is brought out of his introspection when Derek places his breakfast down in front of him. "Thanks..." he says quietly, tucking in readily to give himself something to do.

Overall, breakfast is a tense affair. Both of them know there's more that needs to be said, but neither of them are willing to be the one who speaks up first. They eat in silence, both of them staring back and forth at the other when they think the other isn't looking.

When the last strip of bacon is gone from his plate, Stiles brushes his hands off on his chinos before dumping the plate in the sink. After checking the time on his phone, he actually breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that it's time for him to head off to school lest he be late. The fact that he actually feels relief about being apart from Derek isn't something that sits right, but he just can't find the energy to deal with all of the unsaid words in that moment. Still, he doesn't want to leave the alpha to stew in his own worries all day, so he presses a quick kiss to Derek's bearded cheek and whispers, "I love you," in his ear before slipping from the room. He finds his backpack in the living room where he left it and slings it over his shoulder as he walks out through the front door. Shutting it with a gentle click and traipsing over to his car, he sits behind the steering wheel and allows his body to sag into the smooth leather beneath him, glad to be out of the house.

The drive to the high school is a fast one, and like he has every day since he started attending again, he finds Isaac waiting for him on the curb next to his unofficial parking space.

Getting out of his car, Stiles retrieves his backpack from the passenger seat before walking up to the beta and letting himself be pulled into their usual hug of greeting. He becomes confused, though, when instead of pulling him straight up the steps and through the main doors, Isaac holds him at arm's length and scents the air between them curiously.

"Uh, what's up?" he asks, snapping the beta out of his sniffing.

"You smell like Derek," Isaac replies simply, letting go of Stiles' shoulders and falling into step beside him when the other boy begins walking toward the school building on his own for once. He trails behind Stiles all the way to his locker, not planning on leaving his side until he gets an explanation, not even when he sees Danny and Erica waving at the two of them from the other end of the hall. "It's fresh, so I know it's not just you wearing his clothes or something because you miss him. Please tell me he's back." He's desperate to see his alpha pair well and together again—his wolf hasn't shut up since he stumbled across Stiles that memorable evening, whining nearly constantly in his head and longing for the pack to be happy and whole once more. Neither he nor his wolf are happy unless it is, and he knows it's his previously unstable home life that makes them that way.

Inputting his combination, Stiles opens his locker and stuffs most of the books from his backpack inside it to pick up later. It seems stupid to break his back carrying them all when they're not needed for hours.

Slamming the locker door shut again, he fits the strap of his backpack comfortably in place on his shoulder, sighing in relief at how light it feels now. Turning back to Isaac, he smiles tiredly at the hopeful expression still on the beta's face. "Yes, he's back," he answers, ignoring what he thinks is Erica's celebratory shout when it echoes over to him. "He got back last night, looking a total mess, but he's all cleaned up now."

"How is he? Emotionally, I mean," Isaac enquires timidly, feeling that he might be crossing the line into business that has nothing to do with him.

When they catch up to Erica and Danny at the other end of the hall, Stiles doesn't bother rehashing everything he and Isaac have already said, knowing that the two nosey betas will have been eavesdropping. "He's...he's OK as he can be, I guess. We both are," he mumbles, keeping his voice low as he leads the way into their first class of the day—he doesn't want any of the other students overhearing something they shouldn't. He finds Jackson and Lydia already in their seats, and he takes his own beside the redhead. Isaac takes his other side and Erica and Danny sit in front of them both. He's glad Charlie doesn't also share this class, meaning he can talk semi freely. "I'm gonna be honest—things are a little tense, and they probably will be for a while as we deal with all the demons that this brought up, so you should all be prepared for that."

"Understandable," Erica interjects, gathering her long blonde hair at the back of her head and tying it into a ponytail with the band she keeps around her wrist. "He always has been quite the martyr, hasn't he?" She shakes her head sadly, raising an eyebrow at Isaac when the curly-haired beta turns around in his seat to glare at her over his shoulder.

"Well, it's no secret that we both have problems; this just brought all of that back with a vengeance, which is probably what that dickhead in the preserve wanted in the first place..." Stiles fumes, glaring at the large blackboard on the wall at the front of the room. He tries to calm himself down before his emotions get out of control and he accidentally does something stupid, like set his desk on fire. "I want to thank all of you for helping me through these past couple of weeks, by the way.

"I'd recommend not making a big deal out of everything that's happened when you see Derek later; it'll probably be better if you just act like nothing is different. We'll get there soon—we've already been through too much to let this beat us, so we're not going to. Simple as that."

Right as he finishes speaking, the teacher walks into the room and effectively ends the conversation.

* * *

When the rest of the pack are informed of Derek's return, most of them are ecstatic about having their alpha back and pleased that they can stop watching Stiles waste away to nothing. Cora is happy that her brother is safe at home again, and even Boyd manages to produce a rather sizeable smile—at least by his standards—when Erica tells him the news. All of them notice the change this causes in Stiles, the way he holds himself a bit taller now and how the sour scent of misery doesn't follow him to their table in the cafeteria like an oppressive cloud. The only person who doesn't react with joy and relief is Scott, who says he's happy even though his face never actually shows it. From their years of close friendship, Stiles knows this means something important, but he can't work up the energy to decipher it and just decides to ignore it for now and deal with the beta later.

His last class of the day is once again Chemistry, and he returns Charlie's smile easily when he walks into the room and sees her already sat in her usual seat. "Hey," he greets, plopping down on his own stool next to the girl and getting his textbook out from his backpack.

"You seem different," Charlie replies instead of returning the sentiment. "Like, lighter or something."

"Oh, yeah...I'm feeling much better now," Stiles promises, hoping that he didn't worry the girl too much when he was walking around like a zombie for two weeks. Going over the month and a half that he's known her, he finds that the only instances she's spent time with the pack are when he was there to bridge the gap. Even though he thinks that Charlie and the pack are friends to some degree, he knows with certainty that he's the one she's closest to in the group and feels bad for leaving her in the dust without anyone to really talk to or hang out with.

Charlie purses her lips and pats Stiles on the shoulder. "I'm glad. Y'know, you still haven't told me what caused your little episode of doom and gloom or whatever you wanna call it," she points out, keeping her eyebrows raised expectantly.

"I was just going through some personal relationship-y stuff that I don't really feel like getting into right now, probably not ever," Stiles explains, careful to keep the truth out of it entirely.

He relaxes when Charlie just nods, the girl accepting his non-answer with ease before Ms. Adler walks into the room and calls all talking to a halt. As he turns to face the blackboard—even though Lydia's revenge plan still seems to be working, making the woman a lot more pleasant to be around, he doesn't want to actively do anything to risk that changing—he catches something from the corner of his eye. It's quick, but he sees Charlie bite her lip as she looks down at her hands with the most unusual expression on her face. If Stiles had to put a name to it, he would say she looked guilty in that brief flash, but because the class is starting, he's unable to ask her what caused it. He hopes it's nothing he did. The last thing he needs to deal with then is more guilt.

* * *

At the end of the school day, it comes as no surprise to Stiles that all of the betas beg to tag along with him and see Derek for themselves. He relents when Isaac brings out his puppy eyes, but he warns all of them not to crowd the man as soon as they walk through the front door.

When he pulls to stop outside the house, Stiles finds Derek sitting on the porch swing with a book in his hands, looking relaxed and like he doesn't have a care in the world. It's a nice thing to see. Of course, that illusion is destroyed as soon as the rest of the pack exit their vehicles, but they thankfully all follow his instruction—Jackson offers the man a simple nod, and Scott's eyes flick over in his direction for a second before he follows the other beta into the house. Everyone else offers Derek cheery greetings as they walk up the steps to join the two boys inside. For a second, it looks like Isaac is going to disobey and cuddle intrusively right up to Derek's side, but the alpha is saved when Danny reappears and drags his boyfriend away. Stiles catches a glimpse of the Hawaiian rolling his eyes fondly before the door shuts with a click.

"You had a nice day?" Stiles asks when he takes a seat on the other side of the swing. It pains him to keep his distance, and he very nearly takes a page out of Isaac's book and closes it, but after how stilted things seemed that morning, he guesses it'll be best for them if he leaves the speed at which they reconnect for Derek to set alone.

He tells himself that he can wait patiently for his mate to work through his issues.

"It was alright," Derek replies, putting his bookmark in place before shutting the book and setting it down on the armrest. He wants to have all of his focus on the conversation. "I thought everybody would be more...enthused when they saw me again. Your doing, I assume?"

"I thought you'd appreciate not being suffocated by everybody trying to pile on top of you, yes," Stiles confirms smugly. "I suggested they keep their distance for a while, at least until you tell them you're ready for more." He knows for sure that he did the right thing when one side of Derek's mouth lifts and his eyes become softer. They lose the tightness around the edges that he guesses was there to guard against being assaulted by puppies like he was anticipating. Returning the small smile, he's pleasantly surprised when Derek pats the space next to him, beckoning him closer. After some silent communication—during which he asks the alpha if he's sure and gets an easy nod in return—he gladly scoots along the swing until he's sitting right next to Derek.

His mate's body is a long line of heat against his own, warming and protecting him from the mild chill that's beginning to seep into the late-afternoon air. He sighs, a pleased sound, when Derek guides him to lean his head on his broad shoulder.

"Mmm...this is nice; I've missed this," he says quietly a few minutes later, after fingers begin carding slowly through his hair. He brings his legs up onto the swing and curls them beneath his body to get more comfortable, hoping that the betas will be fine if left alone in the house for a while. He doesn't think he would be capable of moving even if he wanted to.

"Me, too," Derek replies.

They stay there in their own little bubble for almost a full hour before Lydia comes to see what's taking them so long. Her face appears around the door frame, and she can't help but feel relieved when she sees Stiles and Derek curled up together on the porch swing. Even though the boy told her they'd be fine, as much as she didn't want to, she still had her doubts about them being able to work through this latest hurdle, especially given the nature of it. She's under no illusions that the work is all finished, but she's never been happier to be proven wrong. "Hey, you two," she speaks up finally when one of Derek's eyes opens to look at her curiously. "I didn't want to bother you, but some interested parties wanted to know what the dinner situation is for tonight, and they're getting a little...rambunctious."

Derek knows full well what Lydia is talking about. For the past half hour, he's been listening to the betas get more and more worked up in the living room. He would've blocked them out entirely, but the fear that they would end up breaking something kept his attention.

"Tell them we'll be there in a few minutes," he replies, glad when Lydia retreats back inside the house.

Looking down at Stiles snuggled into his side, he's loath to move when he sees how peaceful the teen appears, his face relaxed as he sleeps away the afternoon. Still, he knows that Stiles will be grumpy later if left in slumber much longer now. With a gentle touch, he pushes his mate's body up until he's sitting straight, panicking briefly when the teen almost topples over the other way, his head hanging back and his mouth open ridiculously. Keeping a hand on Stiles' shoulder, Derek calls out to him and traces a finger down the bridge of his nose, grinning when it twitches and the teen's eyes finally crack open following a displeased groan.

"Ugh, you're such a meanie..." Stiles complains when he fully wakes up. He stretches and yawns loudly before reluctantly trailing after Derek when the alpha stands and heads into the house. They find Erica and Isaac roughhousing in the living room, growling in each other's faces.

The sofa is overturned, and the others watch from the safety of the kitchen as the two betas inch closer and closer to the coffee table.

Derek roars and flashes his eyes red, huffing in satisfaction when Isaac immediately responds. He watches as the tall teen throws Erica off and springs to his feet with wide, innocent-looking eyes that fool absolutely no one. For her part, Erica dusts herself off and calls Isaac a goody two-shoes under her breath before wandering away to track down Boyd, planning a make-out session. Turning back to Isaac, Derek rolls his eyes hard when he sees the boy is still eyeing him hopefully. After making him wait a few more torturous seconds just to watch him squirm, he holds his arms out and grunts at the impact when Isaac launches himself forward and collides with him like a homing missile. He sees Stiles creep past him down the hallway, leaving the two of them alone, and wraps his arms more securely around the tall body clinging to him.

"I'm glad you're OK," Isaac whispers into Derek's shoulder before releasing him, allowing the alpha to ruffle his hair good-naturedly before practically skipping away to rejoin Danny in stuffing their faces. The only reason he stopped was because he greedily tried to take the last cookie from Erica's plate, starting their fight.

Bending down, Derek eases his hands beneath the sofa and flips it back into place. He fixes all of the cushions before taking a seat.

Now in the kitchen with most of the betas, Stiles has his head buried in the fridge as he searches for something he can cook for them all that's reasonably healthy. Everybody's diet has taken a serious nosedive recently because he didn't feel up to keeping on top of it, so he's hellbent on correcting it now that he's more himself again. Along with some questionable-looking vegetables, he finds two packs of unopened chicken breasts hidden behind some milk on the bottom shelf, and this gives him the idea of doing a stir-fry. It's all reaching its sell-by date anyway, so it seems like the perfect solution. Grabbing some garlic and a few other spices to flavour it all, he gets to work and ropes Isaac and Allison in to help prepare some of the easier ingredients while he takes care of the chicken.

He's so focused on his cooking that he doesn't notice his best friend slink out.

Back in the living room, Derek looks up when Scott approaches him and flops down on the opposite end of the sofa. He can sense that something is bothering the crooked-jawed beta—his whole body practically radiates anger and distrust—and this sets him on edge, too. Keeping his eyes firmly glued to his book, he hopes that not giving Scott any attention will be enough to deter the young wolf from speaking whatever is on his mind. He's unfortunately not that lucky.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Scott begins, his tone already sounding sanctimonious. Ever since that night when he accompanied his mother to patch Stiles up, there's been a voice in the back of his head telling him that Derek did it on purpose. It was so persistent and all of its arguments seemed so good that he couldn't help buying into them.

In his eyes, all Derek did was nearly kill his best friend before selfishly taking off so he didn't have to deal with the aftermath, and when he overheard that the alpha was back from across the lunch table, he knew he'd be the one to lead the confrontation.

Derek hears the muted talking in the kitchen come to a sudden halt at Scott's angry question. He keeps himself calm as he closes his book and places it on the coffee table, not rising to the bait that the beta is so obviously dangling in front of him. Taking a breath, he faces Scott head-on with his expression held carefully neutral. "What do you mean?" he responds, tilting his head to the side. As much as the beta has owned up to the mistakes he made back then, the boy sitting in front of him is nearly identical to the insolent, newly turned pup that challenged his every word and accused him of murdering his sister right after they first met. The only difference is his thankfully shorter hair. This tells him clearly that Scott still has a lot of growing up to do, though that doesn't stop him from dreading whatever the beta has to say next, especially given that the rest of the pack is within earshot.

"You think it's alright to do what you did to Stiles and then come back in here two weeks later, acting as if everything's fine and you did nothing wrong?!" Scott demands, leaping to his feet and clenching his hands at his sides. His eyes glow a constant gold.

By this point, all of the betas have left their stools and are pressing themselves close to the wall in order to hear everything better.

"That's none of your business, Scott," Derek forces out between clenched teeth, his own eyes flashing red before he manages to get them back under control. He doesn't want to give into his instinct to wring Scott's neck for challenging him like this, an instinct that's stronger than normal because what they're talking about is still so raw. "Stiles and I have already talked in depth about everything that happened, and that's all you need to know about the subject."

"Bull-fucking- _shit_!" Scott exclaims defiantly, taking a reckless step forward.

The increasing loudness of his best friend's voice finally clues Stiles into the argument happening in the next room. Frowning in confusion for a second, he drops his wooden spoon into the saucepan containing the half-cooked chicken and rips off his apron before dashing through to the living room. He gets there just in time to catch Scott's next series of scathing remarks.

"I can't fucking _believe_ you, Derek! Do you know what Stiles was like after that night? No? Well, then, let me fill you in: he wasn't sleeping; he wasn't eating... It was like we were right back to the end of last year, so much so that I was actually scared we were gonna lose him!" Scott looks over his shoulder at the other betas, searching for backup, but he doesn't get any. All they do is give him pained looks before retreating back into the safety of the kitchen. Even so, he's not deterred. "You do all that to Stiles—someone who you're supposed to _love_ —and then take off. You basically _rape_ him, almost killing him in the process, and then you just ditch him and leave all of us to deal with the fallout! What were you doing all this time, huh? Off doing God knows what when this was all. Your. _Fault_!" He steps closer and closer to Derek during his impassioned rant and punctuates his last words by poking the alpha roughly in the chest three times with his index finger.

Stiles doesn't immediately come to Derek's defence; he's too shocked by what Scott is saying to move from his spot in front of the kitchen doorway.

Derek's irritated expression is quick to disappear as soon as the word 'rape' passes Scott's lips, his face crumpling as all the blood drains from it. His eyes look wounded, like black holes of hurt that leave the room in silence for several incredibly tense seconds. He takes a step backward, his mouth settling into a thin line before he scurries from the room without saying another word. The sound of footsteps on the stairs can be heard as he retreats up to the solitude of his and Stiles' bedroom.

Now that Derek is gone, Scott takes a breath before turning to face Stiles. He's shocked when he sees the coldness in the other boy's eyes; it's more terrifying than any rage he could display, but his belief in his earlier words remains resolute.

"What was that...?" Stiles asks eerily calmly, though the slight quiver in his voice betrays the emotions he's holding beneath the surface.

"The truth," Scott replies, holding his head high even though his heart feels like it's beating a hundred times a second. "He did terrible things to you, and then he comes back after two weeks, acting as if everything's fine? I know it might seem harsh, but you're my best friend and he hurt you; I saw the way you winced every time you sat down those first few days. I couldn't just let him get away with that. Someone needed to tell him exactly what he did wrong, and clearly I was the only one with enough balls to do it." After he's finished speaking, he can't stop the nervous shudder that runs through his body as Stiles approaches to stand right in front of him, their faces inches apart. He swallows tightly when the human teen just stares him down with the same neutral expression for almost a full minute. The sound of hushed whispering reaches his ears from the kitchen, and he just about makes out Erica and Isaac concocting an elaborate scheme to murder him.

Tilting his head to the side, Stiles flicks his eyes down to Scott's throat when the beta swallows, watching his Adam's apple move. He feels a sense of satisfaction when cracks begin showing in his supposed best friend's expression, hidden fear revealing itself bit by bit.

"You have some nerve, Scott McCall," Stiles seethes, loosening his hold on his anger. He rolls his head in a circle and unfurls his hands at his sides, the apron he was still holding dropping to the floor with a soft sound as he lets his eyes slip shut. The tether he still has on his rage is fraying, on the verge of snapping completely, and as a result he can feel his irises are starting to glow beneath his eyelids. "You _dare_ to speak to your alpha that way, to disrespect him _and_ me that way, after everything we've done for you?"

"Stiles-" Scott tries to cut in, desperate to convince his friend that he's right.

To everyone's surprise, when Stiles opens his eyes again to level Scott with a scathing glare, the beta flies backward and hits the wall with a loud crash. He falls to the floor, so caught off guard that his legs fail to keep him standing.

Stiles doesn't really feel like himself in that moment; it's like something else has taken over his body, but not in a terrifying way like with the Nogitsune. It feels familiar, like an old friend that was forgotten, found once more. It's primal, ancient and powerful. Even though he doesn't know how he did it or what this new feeling means, he doesn't let any of his questions or concerns show on his face. Instead, he keeps himself focused as he approaches and kneels next to where Scott lies prone on the floor. Tilting his head to the side almost speculatively, he watches as his prey squirms with unease beneath his unerring gaze. "I think it's time for you to leave now, Scott," he says after a tense silence, his tone making it clear that it's not a suggestion. "Don't come back until you've learned your place and you're ready to apologise to Derek and I and mean it."

Leaping to his feet when his friend sits back on his heels to let him up, Scott looks pleadingly at the other boy. "Stiles..."

Having had enough, Stiles glowers at Scott one last time before pointing to the front door. "Get. _Out_!" he yells, his voice nearly deafening. There's so much power held in it that he actually shakes the whole house, causing one of the picture frames on the wall to drop to the floor, the glass smashing on impact.

He doesn't move from his spot until Scott runs for the door, slamming it as he leaves.

Finally coming down from whatever power had gripped him, Stiles walks over to the fallen photograph and picks it up, shaking the loose glass from the frame before staring down at it. He deflates when he sees which one it is. It seems oddly fitting that the only photograph to fall was the one of the pack all gathered together on the sofas shortly after the house was completed, smiling up at the camera. Movement in his periphery snaps him from his staring, and when he looks up, he finds the other betas looking at him from the kitchen, frightened.

Even Jackson seems affected by what he just witnessed, and now that it's over and the adrenaline has left his system, Stiles can't say he blames them at all. Taking a deep breath, he hangs the picture back up on the wall before leaving the room and ascending the stairs, wanting to check on Derek.


	17. Vanity

"So...does anyone have any idea about what just happened?" Danny asks in shock, tentatively stepping into the living room and approaching the spot where Scott was launched off of his feet.

"Can't say I do, no," Lydia replies, joining the Hawaiian and staring off into the foyer. "I don't think even Stiles knew how he did what he did. No one is really sure how his spark works, whether there are limitations about what it can do or not. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say that what Scott said to Derek pissed Stiles off so much that his anger tapped into his power."

Having retrieved a dustpan and brush from beneath the kitchen sink, Isaac crouches down next to the shattered glass on the floor and sweeps it all up in Stiles' absence. "I can't say I blame him," he mumbles darkly. "I can't believe Scott would think those things, let alone have the nerve to actually say them out loud..." His own less-than-pleasant feelings toward the crooked-jawed beta have yet to fade away, and he doesn't think they will for quite some time. Even if Scott goes through some serious self-reflection and apologises sincerely like Stiles told him to, he himself won't be so quick to forgive the other boy, a sentiment he thinks is shared by several of the others judging by the sour expressions on their faces. When the glass is all cleaned up, he tosses it in the bin before taking a seat in the middle of the sofa and leaning back into the cushions. He looks up at the ceiling and wishes he could hear the conversation that's no doubt going on upstairs. "I wonder how Derek is doing..."

Allison and Kira stay silent throughout this whole exchange, standing awkwardly in their spots next to the kitchen doorway and biting their lips. They're both torn, the exact same things running through their minds—on the one hand, they disagree wholeheartedly with everything Scott said and believe that none of what happened was Derek's fault, but on the other, they love the boy and don't want anything to put a wedge between them.

"Don't worry; I'm sure he'll be fine," Erica assures Isaac, flopping down next to him and propping her high-heeled feet up on the coffee table.

"Me, too," Danny adds, taking the seat on Isaac's other side and leaning against him. "It can't be good to hear that someone you're supposed to be close with thinks you raped your mate, but I know that Stiles'll make both of them see reason. It'll probably help if we tell him that none of us agree with Scott whenever Derek comes back downstairs, as well."

Minutes later, Isaac says, "Screw it," before getting up and walking in the direction of the stairs. When Danny asks him where he's going, he yells back over his shoulder, "I'm gonna see if I can hear anything through the door! I want to know how it's going already..." He conceals a smile behind his hand when he hears the others rush to join him, having known beforehand that they wouldn't be able to resist if he took the first step.

* * *

When he gets upstairs, Stiles steps lightly toward his and Derek's closed bedroom door, wondering whether it would be a good idea to leave the man alone for a little while longer. In the end, after several minutes spent standing with his hand hovering over the knob and listening to the discussion going on downstairs, he decides to just go for it and opens the door. It swings open to reveal Derek sitting cross-legged in the middle of their bed, his head in his hands. "You OK?" he asks as he approaches, sliding onto the mattress behind him and shuffling up close so that they're chest to back. He's glad when Derek nods a second later, which makes him feel comfortable enough to move and prop himself up against the pillows, gently pulling the man back with him so that he's cradled safely between his legs.

Derek rests his head against Stiles' collarbone, turning it sideways so that his forehead is pressed to the pale skin of the teen's neck and he can breathe him in better. "What happened after I left?" he asks after building his courage, breaking the silence.

"I gave Scott a real talking to," Stiles replies, slipping a hand beneath Derek's shirt and rubbing it back and forth across his toned stomach.

Humming quietly in pleasure, Derek snuggles even closer to the teen and closes his eyes, taking great comfort from his touch. Nothing calms him down quite like Stiles' hands running slowly over his belly, but he knows he'll never actually say those words out loud—he doesn't want to give the boy even more ammunition to use in his dog jokes. His efforts to keep that secret are apparently pointless, though, as he finds out when his mate speaks again, low in his ear.

He really hates that Stiles is able to read him so easily sometimes.

"Yeah, you like when I give you belly rubs, don't cha, big guy?" Stiles chuckles softly, bringing his short nails into play and scratching them lightly through the trail of hair that leads down from Derek's bellybutton. The muscles of his abs twitch beneath his palm, and he smiles in relief when he feels the man exhale sharply through his nose in his trademark sign of amusement, the breath puffing out across his neck and tickling him. He only stops his teasing when he feels a sharp pinprick of pain on his thigh, caused by Derek poking him with an unsheathed claw. When they're both calm again, he resumes his earlier stroking but keeps it soothing instead of trying to rile the man up. Thinking that there are still things they need to discuss, he buries the lower half of his face in Derek's hair so that his words are muffled by the dark strands. "I think my powers are still growing, by the way. When I was telling Scott off, I was so angry at him that I, uh...may have accidentally thrown him across the room just by looking at him..."

"That's...different," Derek replies, frowning. He's never heard of someone doing something like that before. The closest instance he can think of is when Jeremy was fighting with Landon, but that was more like him bringing forth a harsh gust of wind with his hand than anything else.

Snorting into Derek's hair, Stiles smiles wryly before bringing his caressing to a stop.

"Tell me about it..." he mumbles before sighing. "It was a little scary, to tell you the truth. It's like my powers are growing faster than I can comprehend, like before I've even mastered one aspect of it, another three show up out of the blue. I guess Holly and Deaton weren't kidding when they said my magic would probably grow to be strong." His wry smile turns into something more positive when one of Derek's hands covers his, their fingers linking together.

"You'll learn to control it eventually," Derek states with certainty. Tilting his head up, he presses his lips to Stiles' chin and gets prickled slightly because the teen hasn't shaved in a couple of days.

"I don't regret it, though," Stiles reveals when Derek returns to his previous position. "The things he said to you... He needed a good kick up the ass, and I was more than happy to be the one to give it to him. I've gotta look out for my man, after all." When Derek growls up at him he tries to return the sound, but it comes out more like a kitten being strangled than anything else. "Seriously, though... I can't believe he thought you raped me, that you'd even be capable of something like that. I love him, but Scott can be such a bullheaded idiot sometimes, I swear..." This new incident reminds him of how the other boy used to act those first few months after he was turned, when he harboured unprompted hatred toward Derek even when the man had already more than proved himself as trustworthy. _So much for progress_ , he thinks sadly. "He's gonna have to do some serious grovelling before I forgive him. Feel free to give him hell until I do, by the way; I give you express permission to rough him up to your heart's content."

Derek hums his assent, mumbling, "I'll keep that in mind," into Stiles' neck.

They lie there in silence for a while, neither one feeling the need to speak. It's a good sign that they're already back to being in each other's company so comfortably, and it's happened a lot faster than Stiles feared it would. The realisation is uplifting.

"I got into contact with one of my mom's old friends while you were all at school," Derek announces eventually.

Stiles snaps out of his thinking at this, the vibrations that seep back into his body from his mate's low, rumbling voice making him shudder. He licks his lips before glancing over at the time, his eyebrows raising on his forehead when he sees that it's already been almost a full hour since his and Scott's confrontation. The time has passed quickly, since it seems like less than half of that to him. "Oh? Who are they?" he enquires, curious as always when it comes to finding out new information about Derek's past.

"Her name is Sheila Morris. She's a therapist that works exclusively with supernatural clients," Derek answers quietly, the tips of his ears already tinged pink with embarrassment. "My mom used to make all of the family see her from time to time to keep on top of everything whenever things got intense. I never saw her much, but we had a couple of appointments just after the whole 'Paige' thing. It wasn't very helpful for anyone because I didn't want to tell her what really happened. I haven't seen her since just after Landon killed Jeremy, when she came over for an appointment that my mom set up for me. I refused to come out of my room, so my mom stopped trying to get me to talk and just wiped my memories when I asked." It was hard to track Sheila down because she moved clear across the country shortly before the fire. The sound of shock in her voice when he'd found her website and given her a call still brings a smile to his face, but he can't say he blames her for never expecting to hear from any Hale ever again.

"So...are you thinking of seeing her now?" Stiles asks carefully, thinking secretly that it sounds like a wonderful idea.

Nodding, Derek pulls a piece of paper from his pocket that has the woman's name and number scrawled across it. "Yeah, I am; through Skype," he replies equally carefully, wanting Stiles' approval before he moves forward with the plan. His heart beats faster as he waits for his mate's response.

"I think that'll be good for you," Stiles says after some thought, hugging Derek a little tighter because he can sense the man's nervousness. He takes the slip of paper from Derek's hand and reads over it carefully, committing the number to memory. "Maybe I could see her at least once, too. I'm sure there's still stuff I need to get out of my system from everything that's happened this past year."

"I'll ask her next week," Derek promises.

"A supernatural therapist, huh? That's a strange concept..." Stiles muses amusedly, having never heard of such a thing. "It makes sense, though, I guess. I mean, after all the shit we've been through in just this past year and a half and all the problems and issues we have because of it, there must be a demand for this sort of thing, other people in the supernatural world who need or want that sort of help. It's not like we can just go to any old therapist and spill our guts without revealing a whole load of shit that'll either out everyone or get us a one-way ticket to the nearest looney bin."

Derek holds himself still when he feels Stiles blindly fumble the paper back inside his pocket.

"That reminds me! There's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I kept forgetting," Stiles exclaims suddenly, startling Derek. He apologises when he feels the man's muscular body jolt atop his own. "Deputy Parrish stopped by the day after...you know, and I might've told him about all of us."

He's quick to expand when Derek leans forward out of his grasp and turns to stare at him over his shoulder, bewilderment painted clear across his handsome features. "I didn't have a choice, I swear, or I never would've told him without consulting you first! He walked in while Isaac was checking my stitches and saw everything, and then came to the conclusion that you did it to me. Which, yes, is true, but he thought it was intentional. He tried to take me bodily out of the house before I got him to calm down and hear me out." He blinks pleadingly at Derek while he waits for him to absorb his words, sighing in relief when the man gives him one last narrow-eyed look before falling back into position. The force of the impact knocks the air from his lungs, and he wheezes loudly for a few seconds before recovering and twisting one of Derek's nipples roughly through his thin Henley in retaliation. He gets great satisfaction when the alpha squeals in pain, the sound high and distinctly unmanly.

Rubbing at his chest, Derek glares up at Stiles before relenting and getting comfortable again.

"He took it pretty well, I think," the teen carries on when Derek stays silent. He presses a kiss to the man's temple in a silent apology. "He knows everything now, and he's supposed to come over for dinner once this current threat is dealt with. So play nice!"

"I always play nice," Derek replies haughtily, glancing over at the door when he hears shuffling footsteps out in the hallway. "I think the betas want to come in."

Looking up at the door as well, Stiles tightens his arms around Derek's body like he's trying to stop something precious from being stolen away from him. "Are you ready for that?" he asks, putting the decision completely in his mate's hands even though he's unsure of the answer he'd give his question himself. He recalls the shocked and half-afraid stares he'd been subject to just an hour previous, feeling fear grip _him_ this time as he wonders what the pack's reactions will be to his uncontrolled display of power downstairs. When Derek nods, though, he inhales deeply to bolster himself up before calling for them to enter the room, hoping it'll all turn out fine.

The door bursts open and rebounds harshly against the wall as the betas pour into the room.

When he spies the guilty look on Isaac's face and the way Erica elbows him in the ribs, Stiles gets the distinct impression that the pair were trying to eavesdrop on his and Derek's conversation before they were allowed entrance.

Everyone else is more reserved in their arrival, with Lydia and Jackson pulling up the rear. The redhead shuts the door behind herself demurely before smoothing down her skirt and turning to face the bed. "I trust you two managed to work things out?" she asks confidently, having no doubt in her mind that she's right. She gets a particularly smug smirk on her lips when Stiles confirms her theory.

"Yes, we did," the boy replies, not missing the way Isaac and Erica practically deflate at his words, all the tension and worry leaving their bodies following his confirmation that Derek is fine. It still amuses him how the blonde acts tough and like she doesn't really care that much about anything, but deep down she's a total daddy's girl, with Derek as her pseudo father figure. It's not that unusual, he doesn't think, given that Derek is her alpha and as a result has an inherent authority over her and everyone else, but it seems especially true in her case. Even though her own father is alive and well at home, Stiles has always gotten the idea that Erica isn't that close with the man as a result of years of overprotectiveness brought on by her epilepsy.

Isaac climbs onto the mattress and lies down next to Derek, a little further down the bed so that his head comes to rest against the alpha's hip. He practically purrs when a strong hand finds its way into his hair.

The rest of the pack all join the trio after that, Jackson somewhat reluctantly.

Erica presses herself close to Derek's other side, flopping an arm across his stomach just below Stiles', a position that Isaac soon copies in reverse. Danny takes his place behind the curly-haired boy, with Boyd spooning the blonde. Cora lays herself across Derek's legs, holding him in place while Lydia and Jackson squeeze themselves onto the mattress behind Danny and Isaac. The arrogant beta is in serious danger of slipping off onto the floor the entire time.

Allison and Kira do the same behind Erica and Boyd, a little more tentatively than the others as if they're not sure whether Scott's earlier outburst has rendered them unwanted. A gentle smile from Stiles is enough to convince them that they're still welcome, though. It feels a little strange to everyone with one member missing, but Stiles knows that will work itself out soon enough. And if it doesn't, they'll deal with it then. After all, it's not the first time Scott has gone off the rails and done or said something stupid without thinking it through first, and it unfortunately probably won't be the last. The fact that none of the betas, nor Allison, Kira or Lydia, shy away from participating in the impromptu puppy pile allows him and Derek to relax as well.

Stiles is relieved that no one seems scared of him anymore, and Derek takes comfort in the fact that no one else in his pack has voiced an opinion of blame.

The alpha still hasn't dealt completely with what happened, and he knows he won't be in a position to move on from it completely for a long while yet, but it feels nice to know that his pack is there for him in the mean time while he figures it all out. With them and Stiles by his side, he knows there's nothing he can't do.

* * *

_\- Thursday, September 20th, 2012 -_

Two days later, Melissa stops by the house first thing in the morning to take out Stiles' stitches.

He's glad she chose to do it then instead of in the evening, when the rest of the pack is bound to be around—the process would be unpleasant enough without their prying eyes. Truthfully, if he had his way, not even Derek would be there, but the man practically begged him, wanting to 'do things right' from then on to make up for his perceived past indiscretions. After seeing his wolf's pleading eyes, Stiles was powerless to deny him, relenting and deciding that if it's what Derek needs to feel better, then he can put up with it for a while. They're sat side by side on the sofa with Melissa perched on the coffee table opposite, neither one of them wearing shirts, though his lack of one is out of necessity and not choice like Derek's. As the woman is taking out her tools, he picks up on the curious glances she keeps giving the two of them. "What's the matter?" he asks just before she starts on the first line of stitching, leaning back into the back of the sofa so that she has more space to work.

Looking up at Stiles' face, Melissa shakes her head dismissively as she begins snipping the sutures with practised hands. The first line is quick to disappear, and she throws the thread away and runs a warm cloth down the new scar before moving on to the second.

"C'mon, it's me; whatever it is, you know you can tell me," Stiles presses, frowning.

Sighing, the woman stops working before she speaks. "It's just that Scott's seemed kind of...off for the past couple of days, and I was wondering what that's about," she explains, knowing she's on to something when Stiles' expression shifts to one of realisation. "I tried to ask him if it had anything to do with you since he hasn't been over here recently, but he refused to give me an answer."

"Oh yeah... That," Stiles mumbles, averting his eyes when Melissa raises an expectant eyebrow. "We had a kind of...falling out, I guess. He said some things I didn't agree with and I let him know it."

"What sort of things?" Melissa enquires, genuinely curious. She doesn't let any judgement creep into her voice; as much as she loves her son, she knows firsthand that the boy has a tendency to let his mouth run away with him when it would be better to keep it shut. It's gotten him into more trouble in the past than she can keep track of, and it even reached the point when he was in middle school where every time the phone rang, she just assumed it was someone calling to inform her of another instance. Stiles used to accompany Scott in his mischief more often than not back then, and both she and the late sheriff were glad when they started to grow out of it. Recently, as a surrogate mother figure, she's been quite proud of Stiles for maturing and growing up a lot, even if it was brought about by less-than-ideal circumstances. Even though her actual son has come a long way in his own right, she wishes Scott could take a page out of his friend's book and get there faster.

When Stiles glances at him, Derek grants the boy permission to answer Melissa with a simple nod.

"He basically just blamed Derek for everything that happened a couple of weeks ago," the teen reveals unhappily, pursing his lips as he replays all of Scott's hateful words in his head. "I think the clincher was when he accused him of raping me."

Melissa gasps in shock, already planning on having a long and frank discussion with her son the minute he gets back from school at the end of the day. "No wonder you got mad at him; I would've, too..." she sympathises, shaking her head as she picks her small scissors back up and moves on to the third line of stitching on Stiles' torso. It's not long before she's finished with the fifth and final line on one side and moves onto the other.

Derek watches all of her movements like a hawk, ready to intervene at the smallest wince.

"Yeah... This has been a difficult enough time without him making it worse, so I kicked him out and told him not to come back until he gives us both a sincere apology," Stiles finishes off, hoping that it comes soon. Things are quite awkward between everybody in the pack, and whenever he sees Scott in passing in the halls at school, he doesn't like having to look away and ignore the other boy. Lydia, Erica and Isaac all give Scott a lot of shit, and he remembers a particularly bad incident that happened the previous morning, when Scott was walking past to get to his locker and Erica stuck her leg out to trip him up. Having never been that aware of his surroundings even with his heightened senses, Scott of course fell flat on his face in front of about thirty other students. The way his face flushed bright red was enough to make Stiles tell Erica to lay off of the crooked-jawed beta. Allison and Kira are caught in the middle of it all, but Stiles finds the fact that they have each other to lean on until Scott gets his head out of his ass to be very comforting.

He's brought out of his thinking when Melissa tugs gently on one of the sutures to release it from his skin. The area is abnormally sensitive because it's freshly healed, so he fights to keep his face neutral when he feels the skin pull, too. It's not pleasant, but it's nothing he can't handle.

Relaxed silence falls over the room after that.

After the last suture has been cut and cleaned, Stiles puts his sleep shirt back on immediately and stands, returning Melissa's hug when her arms come around his body. "He'll come around eventually, don't you worry," the woman whispers in his ear, and he squeezes her extra hard to show his gratitude before releasing her again and allowing her to put away all of her tools. He looks over his shoulder and frowns when he sees that Derek has disappeared, but a step back toward the foyer allows him to spy the wolf in the kitchen, his back to the doorway.

"Let me know if you have any more problems, OK?" Melissa instructs as she slings her medical bag over her shoulder. She feels amusement when she notices just what has stolen Stiles' attention.

The teen blushes as he turns back to face the woman, the knowing smirk on her face telling him clearly that she knows what had him so distracted. He couldn't help it, though—the way the muscles of Derek's back shifted beneath his tanned skin every time he moved would do that to anyone, he tells himself. "Yeah, sure!" he rushes to respond, ignoring the resulting laughter he hears from the kitchen.

He's obviously not as smooth as he likes to think.

After showing Melissa out, Stiles shuts the front door and heads upstairs to get ready for school. He actually puts some effort into his clothing choices when he's looking for something to wear in the dresser, and he ends up settling on a deep maroon t-shirt and a snug pair of black jeans. _Lydia would approve_ , he muses on his way into the bathroom, nodding to himself. Because he didn't have time to do it before Melissa showed up, he turns on the shower and steps under the warm spray, tilting his head back and raising his arms high above his head. To be able to move freely without fear of popping a stitch is a wonderful feeling, and he takes a minute to stretch all of his limbs out good and proper to make up for the couple of weeks in which he couldn't. The water is soothing as it slides down over his skin on its way to the drain, making his movements relaxed and unhurried as he cleans himself with soaped-up hands.

He ends up spending almost half an hour in the shower, a long time by his standards.

Sliding the stall door open, Stiles steps out onto the tiled floor and dries himself off quickly with a towel before shimmying into his underwear and jeans. It's a tight fit because Lydia picked out the latter garment for him, but he perseveres because he knows how much Derek likes the way they sculpt his ass to perfection, like they were made specially to fit on his body like a glove. He pauses after doing up the zip and button, staring at himself in the mirror on the wall above the sink.

With a finger, he traces down one of his new, pink scars, frowning when he notices that his paleness makes them stand out more than he was expecting.

He gets so caught up in his staring that he doesn't hear Derek approaching, startling with a squeak when strong arms wrap around him from behind and a beard-rough chin tucks over his shoulder. "Hey," he greets when his heart has calmed down, unable to resist smiling back when he spots the smirk that appeared on Derek's lips following his undignified noise of surprise.

It's feels good to see that infuriatingly smug expression again.

Derek pulls Stiles back until the teen is leaning against him, chest to back, and nuzzles into his neck to breathe in his scent. The fetid smell of the disinfectant wipes Melissa used to clean Stiles with has all but disappeared following his shower, a discovery that pleases him greatly. The scent of the cinnamon shower gel they've taken to sharing clings to the boy's skin now, but unlike the wipes, it doesn't hurt his nose. Beneath all of that is Stiles' natural scent, as addictive as ever, and he presses his nose right into the space where neck meets shoulder and breathes deeply, his eyes almost rolling back in his head because it's so potent and heady. His fingers trace back and forth across Stiles' sides, and when he concentrates, he's able to detect the scars without even looking, the smooth skin interrupted by narrow lines of slightly raised scar tissue. He's relieved that the ugly black stitches are gone and he can touch his mate freely.

Stepping back, he turns Stiles around with a hand on his arm and kneels down at his feet, planning on examining the scars more closely. He spreads his fingers out and runs both of his hands down the teen's sides, tracing down the paths his claws made.

"Derek?" Stiles asks, confused. He rests his hands on the man's shoulders and looks down at the top of his head, baffled by the sudden shift in mood.

Instead of answering the teen, Derek cups his hands around Stiles' hips and leans forward, pressing his lips to the scars in a series of chaste kisses that are like silent apologies. He's slowly accepting that there was nothing he could've done to prevent making them in the first place, but he still feels the need to make up for it regardless. Since Stiles won't accept any outright apologies, he settles for the kisses, not stopping until he's run his lips twice over every inch of pinked skin. Stiles' fingers rub soothingly across his scalp, and he pushes up into the touch with a quiet groan after he reaches the end of the tenth and last scar, his eyes fluttering open when the teen tilts his head back.

"Soon enough, we won't even notice them anymore," Stiles assures softly, smiling down at Derek's face with open affection. The alpha's lips running over his skin never fails to ignite a fire in his gut and this time is no different, but he holds himself still, willing his twitching cock to calm down so it doesn't ruin the tender moment.

They stay stock-still with their eyes locked for almost a full minute before Derek surges suddenly to his feet and ravages Stiles' mouth in a fierce and passionate claim, one the teen is eager to reciprocate.

It's only when Stiles' phone chirps loudly that they spring apart.

Pulling the device from his pocket, the teen's eyes widen when he reads the message displayed on the screen. It's from Lydia, wanting to know where he is. The time at the top tells him that he's already five minutes late for his first class. He must've gotten so caught up in his shower and his and Derek's subsequent time together that he didn't realise just how much time was passing by. Hastily locking the phone again and sliding it back in its home, he pecks Derek once on his bearded cheek before rushing from the room, fumbling with his shirt as he goes.

He's still yanking the material on over his head when he passes the dresser, and he swears profusely when he accidentally walks right into its side and stubs his toe.

Luckily, Derek is right behind him to keep him from toppling over, and he grins gratefully at the man when he helps pull the shirt down into place and smooth out the fabric, his head popping through the neck. "Thanks, Sourwolf," he says, paying no mind to the alpha's mumblings about not being able to leave him alone without his hurting himself as he scurries out into the hallway and down the stairs. He finds his school bag right where he left it the previous evening, leaning against the wall next to the front door, so he slips his shoes on, grabs it and his keys and heads outside before any more time can pass. His first class is probably already a lost cause—he hopes he can bribe Lydia into sharing her notes again—so he doesn't drive any faster than he normally would to try and catch the tail end of it. The rumbling of his stomach as he parks in the only empty space in the lot, right at the back, reminds him that he didn't have an breakfast before leaving.

He definitely regrets that misstep now, and he knows that the hours won't be quick to pass as he waits for the lunch period in the afternoon. Shrugging it off, he grabs his bag before walking with a relaxed gait through the main building's doors, another quick look at his phone telling him that he has ten minutes to spare before second period begins.

* * *

The lunch bell finally ringing is like music to Stiles' ears.

He joins the flood of students waiting in line for food and licks his lips in anticipation—his hunger makes all of the dishes he would normally find disgusting seem as appetising as the richest chocolate cake. Isaac and Danny are stood in front of him, and he listens inattentively to their conversation as he loads up his tray with twice the amount of food he usually takes. The look on the lunch lady's face when he pays is priceless, so much so that he can't help chuckling to himself as he walks away and follows the two gossipping betas to their lunch table.

Everyone else is already there, barring Scott, so he sits in between Lydia and the seat he always reserves now for Charlie and begins eating with gusto, demolishing his food at such an alarming rate that even the wolves look at him with concern. "What?" he manages to get out around a mouthful of chicken. He swallows before giving his excuse:

"I didn't have breakfast this morning. Sue me."

Lydia turns away from Stiles in disgust, quickly getting absorbed again in her discussion with Erica. They're sharing makeup tips, and after she finishes giving the blonde unwanted advice on how to better apply her eyeliner, she brings her fork up to her mouth to make a start on her own lunch. Chewing her pasta salad, she grimaces when she finds a hair in it and pulls it out to reveal it's one of her own, long and coloured strawberry blonde, as Stiles would say. Thinking nothing of it, she drops it to the floor and continues, stabbing another quill of pasta with her fork when her scalp suddenly starts itching all over. A frown appears on her face because it's not a common occurrence for her and it came on without any warning. Dropping the utensil with a clatter on the tabletop and sticking her fingers in her hair, she laments the fact that she's probably destroying the meticulous job she did of styling it that morning, her gentle waves getting messed up as she scratches at her scalp with increasing fervency.

Erica watches with a curiously raised eyebrow, as do the rest of the pack when Lydia makes a noise of distress. The itching disappears again as quickly as it came on, and after a few seconds of waiting to make sure it's truly gone, she takes her hands out of her hair with a long breath.

"That was weird..." she mutters, not noticing that anything is amiss until she spies Erica staring down at her hands with shocked eyes.

Her mouth drops open when she sees what has the beta so wide-eyed. Many chunks of her hair are twined around her fingers, tangled together. "What the fuck?!" she screeches, so loudly that everybody in the room turns to see what the commotion is about. She knows she didn't pull the clumps of hair out accidentally and there are too many of them to have fallen out on their own, so she rushes to grab her compact from her bag, flipping it open and looking at herself in the reflection.

Large parts of her scalp are visible when she pulls her hair back to get a closer look.

Stiles stares at Lydia disbelievingly. It's a little frightening to see the hair he admired from afar for years falling out before his eyes, and he wonders whether it's the work of another one of their mystery attacker's curses. It's the only answer that seems plausible given that Lydia is far too young to have her hair falling out, and it's happening faster that it would if she wasn't. Even as he thinks that, more of the girl's silken locks fall, tumbling down her shoulders to the dirty floor. Lydia appears to finally notice that she has a rather sizeable audience a few seconds later, and she leaps to her feet, tugging Erica's jacket forcefully from the back of the blonde's chair and throwing it over her head. Stiles watches as she runs from the room, flying right past an approaching Charlie and leaving a trail of yet more hair in her wake. Jackson, Allison and Erica all hasten to follow the banshee, leaving their food forgotten on the table, and as they leave, Stiles' eyes come to rest on his newest friend, stopping him from leaving the table himself just yet.

Charlie stares after Lydia with the most peculiar expression on her face. He wouldn't hesitate to call it fear, but that doesn't make any sense to him. When the girl turns abruptly and walks away without so much as a word, he stands to keep her in his sights and sees her throw her uneaten lunch in the bin.

Before she leaves the room, Charlie looks back over her shoulder and their eyes meet.

The way the girl bites at her lip and averts her eyes almost guiltily only furthers Stiles' confusion. When she's gone, he blinks once and realises the commotion that's going on around him. Loud discussions are echoing throughout the room, the other students all talking about what they just witnessed and putting forth theories and explanations that get more and more wild as they go on. Leaving his own lunch half-eaten, Stiles picks up his bag and finally goes to track down Lydia himself, asking Isaac to clean up the mess the girl left behind to save her the embarrassment.

He finds that he can use the trail of red hair as a guide of sorts, and he shakes his head when he comes across a couple of other boys who have crouched down low to the ground in order to get a closer look. They prod at the clumps curiously and whisper.

The trail ends outside the door to the girls' bathroom nearest the cafeteria.

Jackson stands guard outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a sullen look on his chiselled face. He's pissed that Erica shot him down when he tried to follow her and Allison into the girls' room, the blonde getting right up in his face and growling that he'd better stay out unless he wanted to be made into a eunuch. After that, he'd allowed the door to be shut in his face, the lock sliding home audibly right afterward, and he's been stood outside listening to everything being said within ever since. When he senses Stiles coming his way, Jackson raises his eyes and glares at the human boy suspiciously. "What do you want, Stilinski?" he demands, stepping away from the wall and forming a blockade of sorts in front of the door.

"I wanted to see how Lydia was doing," Stiles replies calmly, years of experience with brushing off Jackson's bad attitude giving him the patience to deal with the prickly beta.

"Well, tough; Erica won't let anybody in, so you're shit outta luck," Jackson informs Stiles smugly, getting pleasure out of denying the other boy something he wants. It's something he sadly doesn't get to do very often as of late, not with Derek breathing down his neck like the whipped alpha he is every time he so much as says one bad word to or about his mate. He supposes he can't really comment on how much Derek follows Stiles' every order and caters to his every whim since he's the exact same way when it comes to Lydia. Still, he can't help but roll his eyes whenever Derek trails after Stiles like a whipped puppy. It seems a little pathetic to him.

Shouldering Jackson out of the way, Stiles knocks on the door and calls Erica's name.

"That's not going to work," Jackson singsongs, leaning against the wall again and settling in to watch. He splutters, affronted, when the door is subsequently ripped open and a red-nailed hand reaches through to latch on to the front Stiles' shirt, pulling him through. "Hey! How come I wasn't allowed in?!"

Erica lets go of Stiles abruptly, the momentum sending him stumbling further into he room, and sticks her head out into the hall to look Jackson in the eye. "Because Lydia's not sleeping with him," she answers, exasperation clear in her voice as if she thought the answer was obvious. She pays to mind to the words Jackson spits back at her and just slams the door again before turning to face the room. Stiles is sprawled in an undignified position on the floor, on his knees with his cheek smashed against the cool linoleum, ass high in the air. She kicks him unceremoniously over onto his side as she walks past and comes to a stop next to Allison outside one of the stalls. Lydia is still refusing to come out, and she can hear the other girl trying to keep her crying quiet. With her werewolf senses, though, it's pointless—she can easily detect the salty tang of tears, which is so heavy in the air that it actually overpowers the chemical smell of whatever cleaning products are used by the janitors.

"Come on, Lyds, just come out already! We're tired of waiting!" she demands impatiently.

Before Stiles gets to his feet again, he spies a few small piles of strawberry blonde hair on the floor through the small gap at the bottom of the stall door. Lydia's heels are also in view. Rubbing at his cheek, he glares at the back of Erica's head for the manhandling before shaking his own and pushing her out of the way. He knows that the best way to get Lydia to do anything is definitely not to get annoyed with her, so he holds a finger to Erica's lips when she goes to ask what he thinks he's doing.

Letting herself be shushed for once, the blonde swipes at Stiles' hand with a snarl and grins evilly when her lipstick rubs off on the pad of the boy's finger, staining the calloused skin cherry red. After that, she graciously steps back to allow him more space to work his magic.

Quickly grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall next to the sinks, Stiles uses it to wipe off the lipstick and balls it up before tossing it in the direction of the bin. It bounces off of the rim and skitters away across the floor. Shrugging, he turns back to the locked stall door and knocks gently on its smooth surface. "Lydia? It's Stiles," he calls needlessly, very much aware that Erica and Allison are watching him closely. "Can you open the door so we can see what's wrong? Please? If you're worried about people seeing you, it's only us four in here, and I've got Isaac on cleaning duty so that no one else finds out about it." After ten seconds of waiting, he steps back again with a triumphant smile when he hears the lock slide open. He waggles his eyebrows and sticks his tongue out at Erica when the girl rolls his eyes and scoffs at him.

Lydia steps cautiously out into the main area, still clutching Erica's jacket to her head.

"That bad, huh?" Stiles asks sympathetically, walking around the girl so that their positions are reversed and she doesn't have to look at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks are streaked with black from her mascara running and her eyes are bloodshot. Overall, she makes a pretty pitiable picture. He gets her to perch on the edge of the counter while he cleans the ruined makeup from her face with a wipe that Allison hands him.

When it's all cleaned off with one last sniffle, he tosses the soiled wipe in the bin and actually makes the shot this time. He resists the urge to raise his fist in victory out of deference to the sombre mood of the room and turns back to Lydia. Reaching up, he takes the collar of Erica's jacket in his hand.

"Can I?" he asks softly, prepared to take his hand back if she says 'no'. He's pleased when she nods instead, and when the garment is returned to its owner, he keeps his face carefully blank as he takes in the sight before him. Absolutely all of the gorgeous hair on Lydia's head is gone, leaving behind nothing but the smooth, pale skin of her scalp. In any other situation, he would be tempted to run his palm over it, curious about how it felt. "OK...this is definitely a problem." Right as he finishes speaking, the door cracks open and what he recognises as Isaac's hand reaches through the gap, holding a clear plastic bag. It's filled with the hair he managed to collect from the cafeteria and hallway floors. Stiles rushes over to take it from the beta, thanking him as the door slips shut again and venturing over to the stall Lydia was hiding in to check whether the hair there is also salvageable. Luckily, the linoleum looks clean, so he adds all he finds to the bag before sealing it up and handing it off to the banshee.

"'A problem' is a bit of an understatement..." Lydia grumbles, staring down at the bag now in her lap.

Wanting to cheer the girl up, Stiles quickly thinks of a solution he thinks could work. "Maybe you can get that made into a wig or something while you wait for your hair to grow back," he offers, counting it as a win when Lydia doesn't immediately shoot the suggestion down.

"I guess it's not the worst idea you've ever had..." the banshee responds, wondering what her mother will think of this new development. _It's going to be fun explaining this to her_ , she thinks. "Either way, I'm not leaving this room until lunch is over; there's no way I'm letting anyone else see me like this. I have a reputation to uphold and this is _not_ in keeping with that. Can you help me to my car after the bell rings?" She looks pleadingly up at Stiles and feels relief when he accepts.

"I'm gonna go get your things, OK?" Allison interjects, uncrossing her arms. She guesses she's not really needed there anyway, so she might as well make herself useful elsewhere.

While he waits for the huntress to return, Stiles picks his backpack up from where he'd dropped it when Erica yanked him into the room and sets it on the countertop next to Lydia. Rifling through it, he comes up with a bar of Hershey's chocolate that he was saving for a special occasion and offers it to the redhead. After Lydia breaks off a square and hands the packet back, he breaks off his own and sticks it in his mouth, sucking on it and letting it melt on his tongue. Erica snatches the bar from his hand before he can offer her any, but he doesn't comment on it. A minute later, the door opens again and Allison steps back inside. The brunette hands Lydia her bag before announcing that she and Kira are going to go track down Scott to try and get him to see the error of his ways.

"Good luck," Stiles says before she leaves, the sentiment completely genuine. He hopes that maybe Allison can tap into the old Scott, the boy who would do anything she said.

* * *

As promised, Stiles escorts Lydia to the parking lot just after the lunch bell rings.

They make a ridiculous pair, him carrying two people's things and her walking briskly with Jackson's jacket over her head, hiding her baldness. She also has the bag containing her hair clutched in one hand, and it flops about stupidly with every speedy footstep until they come to stop next to the banshee's car. She unlocks it while Stiles keeps watch, making sure no one sees her.

When Lydia is comfortably sat behind the steering wheel, he tosses her things gently into the passenger seat and closes the door, patting the roof as he steps back to let her know she's good to go.

He watches her drive off before heading back into the school building, ready to take his licks for being late to his next period, Economics with Coach Finstock. He's surprised when, after the man finally finishes yelling at him for five full minutes, he turns to take a seat and finds Charlie sat right next to the only empty desk in the room. Quickly getting over his shock when Finstock yells his name again and snaps him out of it, he hastens to sit down and get out his things, ready for an hour of the coach's unusual and occasionally entertaining teaching methods. He sees a transfer slip sticking out of one of Charlie's books, offering an explanation for her sudden presence in the class. The time passes quickly, and before he knows it he's putting his books back inside his backpack and following the girl out of the room. He has to power walk to catch up with her when she begins wandering off without waiting for him, and when she's within touching distance, he taps her on the shoulder to get her attention. "Hey, what's the rush?" he enquires when she reluctantly slows her gait. "There a fire of something?"

"Uh...no?" Charlie responds confusedly, blinking. They stand there in awkward silence for a few seconds, both waiting for the other to break it. Eventually, she shakes her head and begins walking in the direction of the library, Stiles falling in step next to her. "I have a free period and I just wanted to make the most of it; I've got a lot of studying to do... This year is really kicking my ass."

"Well, I don't have a class right now, either, so we can be study buddies!" Stiles declares excitedly.

Charlie's steps falter briefly. "Yeah, sure..." she accepts as they near the double doors to the library. The place is almost deserted when they enter, so they have free choice of tables. She opts for one in the furthest corner, away from the librarian's desk.

Once they've both gotten settled, Charlie taking off her hot pink jacket and draping it over the back of her chair, Stiles cracks open one of the notebooks Lydia has lent him—the redhead was gracious enough to make copies of her own notes during the two weeks he was mentally checked out—and begins reading through them. They start off with English, and they're exactly as complex and meticulous as he was expecting. It takes him quite a while to wade through it all, and even longer to actually understand any of it. He must have missed more than he thought because the notes talk about things he doesn't even remember being mentioned as coming up. A knot forms in his stomach when he considers the possibility of failing the class.

He _really_ doesn't want that to happen; graduating with the rest of the pack sounds too good.

It wasn't very responsible of him to toss all of his work aside during the time Derek was missing, no matter how distressed he felt throughout it all, and he deeply regrets doing so the more he thinks of all the things he has still to catch up on. There's only so much Lydia's notes can give him, so he promises himself that he'll make more of an effort in the future. When he turns the last page covering English, he stretches his arms above his head and shuffles around in his chair. His ass went numb long ago from being sat still for so long, so a change in position provides much relief. When he lowers his arms again and moves on to the next subject covered in the notebook—he wants to give up already when he sees that it's Math, the sample equations on the page looking like gibberish—he finally notices that Charlie keeps flicking her eyes up in his direction every few seconds, watching him carefully and almost nervously.

"Something on your mind?" he asks after the third time he catches her, staring at her in bewilderment when she almost leaps out of her seat in surprise. He waits patiently while she collects herself again, leaning over the arm of her chair to retrieve the calculator she knocked to the floor.

He sees the librarian glaring at them out of the corner of his eye but ignores her.

Tucking her hair back behind her ear, Charlie sets the calculator down in its place again before answering. "It's nothing, really," she starts, not meeting Stiles' eyes. "I was just wondering how Lydia's doing. I mean, what happened in the cafeteria was really freaky; I've never seen anything like it, and she rushed out of there pretty quick, y'know?" She seems like she's scrambling for words.

"Oh, that. She'll be OK; don't worry," Stiles dismisses quickly, hoping the girl doesn't ask for an explanation. He doesn't have one that even _sounds_ plausible.

When Charlie just nods and accepts his pathetic response, he frowns, getting the distinct impression that he's missing something obvious. He looks back over the last couple of weeks—or what little he remembers of it—and finds that every time he and Charlie were together outside of a classroom setting, she made an excuse to leave within a few minutes. It's possible that she just felt awkward being around him when he was in that depressed zombie-like state, but something inside of him is telling him that the reason for her odd behaviour is something else entirely.

Standing Lydia's notepad up on the table, he observes Charlie as subtly as he can over the top of it.

The girl never seems to truly relax, remaining tense and squirming about in her seat the entire time. He wonders if he accidentally said something he shouldn't have when he wasn't himself that is causing her to act this way around him. The redhead clearly wants to be elsewhere, away from him, and he can't help but feel a little hurt because he thought they were becoming good friends. Right as he's finished gathering the courage to broach the subject, the bell rings, indicating that it's time for them both to get to their last classes of the day. The relief that flashes across Charlie's face when she hears it isn't concealed fast enough for him to miss it, and when she scrambles to put away all of her things, she moves so fast that she looks almost like a blur. He's much slower about gathering up his own books and notes, and he's only just standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder when Charlie dashes from the library without looking at him.

She offers a slightly manic-sounding, "See you later!" before she disappears through the doors, and Stiles is left there staring after her, dumbfounded. Readjusting the strap of his backpack so that it doesn't dig into his shoulder so painfully, he shakes the weirdness off and begins walking to his final class, only to stop again when he steps on something.

Looking down, he sees a cell phone lying on the flat-carpeted library floor.

Crouching low to pick it up, Stiles looks over the device and finds a bold, pink letter 'C' printed on the back of the black case. _Charlie must've dropped it in her hurry to get out of here_ , he muses, pocketing the phone to give back the next time he sees her.

* * *

As he's walking down the school's front steps, on his way to his car to go home, Stiles spots Allison and Scott talking heatedly several feet along the sidewalk. Whatever the huntress is saying apparently falls on deaf ears, because when Stiles gets within earshot, all Scott does in response is scoff and storm off. The beta pauses when he sees him standing there, and their eyes lock awkwardly for a few seconds before Scott shakes his head and continues on his way, leaving him and Allison alone.

The girl stares sadly after her boyfriend, and Stiles feels so bad for her that he closes the distance between them and slings a consoling arm around her shoulders, shaking her gently.

"It'll be fine, Ali," he assures, giving her a squeeze. "Just give him some space to think. As mad as I still am at Scott, I also know him better than anyone; it'll take him some time, but he'll realise what he said was wrong eventually if we just leave him to it. Then we can work at mending all of our relationships, OK?" He doesn't release her until she accepts his pep talk, a grateful smile forming on her lips. After thanking him, she leaves for her own home, meaning Stiles can continue on his trek across the parking lot to his car. There's a lot of stopping and starting as he manoeuvres between all of the other vehicles also looking to leave, but he makes it out eventually and takes the fastest route back to his and Derek's house. The alpha's black car is in its usual spot when he pulls to a stop outside, letting Stiles know that his mate his home, something for which he is glad. He still has to inform Derek off all the things that occurred that day.

"Honey, I'm home!" he calls as he walks in the door, kicking his shoes off carelessly. When Derek appears suddenly right next to him, he almost jumps out of his skin, clutching weakly at his chest as he waits for the shock to wear off. Once it has, he punches the man none too gently on the arm for scaring him deliberately.

Derek leads Stiles through to the living room and pushes him down on the sofa before taking the seat next to him and settling in.

"How was your day, _sweetheart_?" he asks when Stiles' heart has slowed again, playing along with the teen's earlier greeting. He feels slightly stupid letting those words actually escape out of his mouth, but the way Stiles' face lights up in response makes it worth the humiliation. He obligingly wraps an arm around his mate when the boy leans into his body, playing with his hair when Stiles pushes up into his hand.

Humming in contentment, Stiles quietly begins recounting everything that went down at school, from what happened to Lydia at lunch to the odd interaction he had with Charlie in the library.

"So Lydia is _bald_ now? That's...unusual," Derek says thoughtfully when Stiles has finished speaking. He knows how important hair is to the girl, but he can't help but find the whole thing a little funny. He wishes he was there to witness it and then immediately feels bad for it, guessing that the loss of her hair must have been a sincere fear of Lydia's for it to happen if it was caused by another curse. It's the most likely explanation. "I bet that was a sight to behold." Leaning forward briefly to grab the remote from the coffee table, he switches on the television to provide some background noise, finding that the house is too quiet for his liking. When Stiles makes grabby hands for the remote, he allows the teen to take it, a decision he immediately regrets when he hears the familiar theme song for _Friends_ begin to play. He groans into his free hand.

"Don't even start, Sourwolf... I know you're warming up to it," Stiles points out cheerily, nuzzling the underside of Derek's jaw to bring him around. "Plus, we're only halfway through the third season; there are still seven more for us to get through!"


	18. Reconciliation

_\- Saturday, September 22nd, 2012 -_

Lydia doesn't show up at school the following day. The reason is obvious to everyone, but the fact that she seems to disappear completely—not even Jackson is able to get into contact with her—is cause for concern in Stiles' eyes. Luckily, he doesn't have to worry for long because she reappears at the house bright and early on Saturday. The doorbell rings when he's still relaxed in bed, comfortably ensconced in Derek's arms, and as a result it's a real battle to find the motivation to move. His eyes want to slip closed again every time he manages to open them, but when the bell rings a second and third time in quick succession, he sighs and pries Derek's arm from around his waist, sliding across the mattress and out into the cold a second later. In reality, the room is reasonably warm, but a full night of sleeping with an alpha werewolf pressed up against his back makes it feel freezing by comparison. He's quiet as he dresses and tiptoes out into the hall, not wanting to wake Derek prematurely.

When he actually manages to get to the ground floor and open the door, Stiles gets a shock when he sees Lydia standing on the other side. It's like nothing ever happened, all of her hair remaining firmly attached to her head as she waltzes past and walks casually into the kitchen.

Snapping out of his daze, Stiles shuts the door again before following. "Uh, Lyds?"

"I took the suggestion you made a couple of days ago and ran with it," Lydia responds easily, correctly guessing what Stiles wanted to ask her. When she sees the boy's bewildered expression, she smirks around the spoon she's using to eat a pot of plain yoghurt she took from the fridge and consumes another spoonful before continuing. "You were expecting it to take longer, I assume?"

"You could say that..." Stiles answers, switching on the coffee pot and waiting for it to work its magic. He can already feel that he'll be needing a lot of the stuff to get through the day, and Derek will no doubt want a mug as soon as he emerges from their bedroom later on, too. They don't have anything planned—Derek will probably shut himself away in his study for a while to get some work done, but other than that, the day is wide open. While he's waiting, he sticks a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, getting some raspberry jam out of the fridge to spread on them once the appliance spits them back out. It's not the most exciting breakfast he's ever made, but it'll do. He's not awake enough yet to consider doing anything more complicated, but that'll probably have changed by the time Derek is up and sniffing around for his own food.

Scraping the bottom of her yoghurt pot to get the last of it, Lydia washes it out before tossing it in the recycling and dropping the spoon in the sink.

"I got my mom to take me to this speciality wig maker in L.A. right after I left school. It was expensive, but he got it done fast," she explains happily, stepping closer to Stiles and pointing at the top of her forehead, where the edge of the lace-front is just barely visible.

"Oh, cool," Stiles comments, nodding his approval. The wig is so well made that he never would've been able to tell that she's wearing one at all had she not pointed it out to him. Just then, the toaster dings and produces his two slices of toast, so he retrieves a plate from the cupboard and takes them out quickly, sucking his index finger into his mouth when he nearly burns it. He seems to have timed things perfectly, because as soon as he finishes spreading the jam, the coffee pot also dings, and a minute later he's walking into the living room and taking a seat on the sofa.

Lydia opts for one of the armchairs.

After sitting through a rerun of _The Big Bang Theory_ , she remembers the real reason she came over so early, slapping herself on the forehead for forgetting in the first place. From her pocket she produces a resealable plastic bag and tosses it in Stiles' direction, giggling when he fumbles to catch it and spills the last of his coffee down his front.

"Oops...my bad!" she says when her laughter tapers off, not feeling sorry at all. It might be a different story if the boy was wearing a different shirt, but as it is, she doesn't feel bad about accidentally causing him to stain the hideous graphic tee he currently sports. Nevertheless, when Stiles glares at her, she holds her hands up in defeat and goes to get a couple of paper towels from the kitchen on his instruction, watching as he dabs at the stain and tries to stop it from spreading. After he gives up and inspects the contents of the small plastic bag more closely, she explains what's inside it when he stares up at her in confusion. "It's a hair that I found with Derek's old necklace. It was tangled up in the chain, and I'm guessing it belonged to whoever is doing this to us. I thought you might be able to use it in a locator spell or something—I remember coming across one when I was perusing the collection of books you have on the third floor."

"I can try," Stiles agrees, switching off the television again and going up the library to search for the aforementioned spell.

It doesn't take long for him to find it, inside the thickest and oldest-looking book Deaton gave him. He takes out his phone and makes a list of the ingredients and all the steps he'll need to follow, reading it all meticulously several times over to make sure he understands everything.

He has none of the required items in the house, so after changing his shirt and leaving a note on Derek's pillow so that the man doesn't worry about where he's gone, he gets back downstairs to find Lydia preparing to leave. He asks the girl if she feels like accompanying him on a trip to the veterinary clinic, and a minute later, the pair are climbing into the banshee's car and setting off. The trip to the clinic reminds Stiles that Deaton is still missing—with everything that's been going on in his life, he completely forgot.

By the time Lydia has parked the car outside the building, he's come to the conclusion that he'll try and use the spell a second time to find the man if the first attempt is successful.

Instead of using the back lot like she normally would do, Stiles is a little confused when he looks out of his window and finds that they're parked in front of the main entrance. There are no other cars around, the other spaces all empty. It makes the place feel desolate and abandoned, unsettling. "Why are we parked round here?" he asks Lydia as he gets out of the car and follows her to the double doors. He doesn't get a verbal answer; instead, the girl points to a sign that is stuck to the inside of the glass—' _Due to an unexpected family emergency, I've had to go out of town for an undetermined amount of time. I suggest that anybody who requires my services finds and makes use of the clinic in the nearest town until I return. I apologise sincerely for any inconvenience this may cause, and for the short notice._ ' It's signed Alan Deaton. "Who's idea was this?"

"Scott's," Lydia answers, pulling a key out of her pocket and unlocking the door.

Everything seems normal in the waiting room, but the illusion doesn't last long. Stiles hears the sound of something being knocked over coming from the back room, quickly followed by quiet cursing, so he concentrates and gets his powers ready in case he has to use them.

Lydia pushes him impatiently when he doesn't immediately move to investigate, so after glaring back at her over his shoulder, he steps through the doorway despite it not really feeling safe. Turning the corner, he finds the room in complete disarray, with someone crouched down on the floor as they root through one of the cupboards below the countertops. Their head is hidden from view, meaning he can't identify them. "Hello?" he calls cautiously as he takes another step.

The person under the counter swears loudly when they bump their head against the top of the cupboard, startled by his voice.

As they crawl backward out into the open and he gets a good look at them, Stiles lets his powers recede when he sees that it's just Holly, his palms losing the faint orange glow the precedes his fire. He sees shock and suspicion pass across her face briefly before the pain must kick in and she reaches up to the back of her head and winces. Quickly moving forward, he helps her up from the floor. She's another person he hasn't seen in a while—almost a full month, in fact, since their last training session when he guesses Deaton first vanished. He'd actually forgotten she was even in town. Her clothes look unwashed and her hair is like a bird's nest on top of her head. He's a little surprised when he doesn't see twigs. "Sorry about scaring you..." he says as he gets her a stool. "What are you doing here, anyway? You've made a pretty big mess of the place."

"I was trying to find a clue about where Deaton's gone," Holly answers, still rubbing at the back of her head. "I haven't heard from him since the day before our last session, and I'm running out of options. I was hunting around in here in case he left something that'll help me."

"Oh, that's...good," Stiles says lamely after a second, blinking and looking around the room again, this time with more focus. It certainly seems as though Holly has been thorough—absolutely all of the cupboards have been emptied, with their contents strewn across the countertops. Jars and boxes and books are piled and mixed up. He can't help thinking that Deaton is probably going to be mad whenever he gets back or they rescue him and he sees the state of his back room.

Lydia hops up on the edge of the examination table, already checked out of the current conversation.

"Why are _you_ here?" Holly asks, returning Stiles' question. "Did he have another training session set up in advance or something that he neglected to tell me about?" Her head has stopped throbbing by this point, so she rests both hands in her lap.

Shaking his head, Stiles takes his phone from his jeans pocket and scrolls through the list of ingredients he typed down earlier, making a slow circuit of the room and picking out everything he needs. It takes longer than he was expecting because nothing is in its rightful place anymore. "Nope. You've probably been out of the loop—which, again, sorry—but there's someone new in town messing with us, and it's lead to some very unpleasant stuff," he explains, lining everything up next to Lydia on the examination table. He puts it in order from what he'll need first to what he won't need until the end of the spell. The resealable bag containing the long blonde hair goes in front of it all, in clear view. "Lydia found this in the preserve, tangled up with something of Derek's, which is what we think was used to curse him. It probably belonged to whoever is doing this to us, so I was going to have a go at casting a locator spell so we can put an end to it all already..."

Getting up from her stool, Holly takes Stiles' phone to get a look at which spell he's using. "I know this; if you want, I can help so there aren't any mistakes made," she offers, handing the phone back. She's pleased when he accepts, and within the next couple of minutes, they have all the tools they'll need lined up behind the ingredients.

"OK, let's do this!" Stiles cheers, putting forth a positive attitude.

"That's a lot of stuff," Lydia comments offhandedly. She had to vacate her seat on the table to make room for it all, something she wasn't very happy about, and she now sits and watches from the stool on which Holly was sitting previously.

"It's a complex spell," Holly replies before positioning two pillar candles either side of a large wooden bowl and instructing Stiles to light the wicks. One by one, she and Stiles tip the ingredients into the bowl with some purified water, pausing every now and then so he can mutter the small incantations the spell requires. Lastly, she unfolds a map of of the town and lays it behind the bowl. "If this works, when you tip the potion onto here, it'll reveal the location of your enemy by leaving that area uncovered."

The final thing to go in the bowl is the hair. Stiles upends the plastic bag and taps a couple of times on the bottom to get it fall into the mixture, recoiling and coughing when, as soon as it makes contact, it releases a large puff of purple smoke right in his face. "Motherfucker!" he chokes, gratefully taking the glass of water Lydia hastily gets for him and downing a third of it in one swallow. "That stuff is awful..." He wipes the moisture from his eyes and sticks his tongue out ridiculously as if the air will get rid of the taste, pouting when it doesn't work. Holly's impatient face swims into view as his eyes dry, and he clears his throat awkwardly before refocusing on the task at hand. After she inspects the potion and deems it complete, he takes the bowl carefully in his hands and tips it slowly onto the map as per her earlier instruction, starting right in the centre of town. The thick liquid spreads gradually out across all the lines and small letters until it covers every inch. He looks down at it, frowning.

"Did it not work?" he asks, not seeing a point anywhere on the map that's been left uncovered.

"Give it time. These things don't always work right away," Holly placates, keeping her own eyes on the map, too. After a whole minute passes without anything changing, she hums thoughtfully before making a start at clearing everything up.

Having been so sure that the spell would be the answer to all of their problems, it not working fills Stiles with immense disappointment. Even though both Holly and Lydia assure him that it's not the case when he voices the thought, he feels like it's a failure on his part, like he wasn't strong enough to pull it off. He appreciates the comforting words, though.

Sighing, he wonders how he's going to clean the map off and dispose of the potion without spilling it all over the floor. He doesn't come up with a solution, so he figures he might as well just get it over with. Stepping around the table, he grabs hold of two of the map's sides and lifts, his mouth dropping open in an 'O' when he finds that it's solid. The potion has completely fused with the paper and turned hard, making it like a piece of poster board. "Well, I guess this is ruined..." he mutters under his breath, breaking it into pieces and tossing them in the bin.

"We'll find them another way," Lydia announces with feigned certainty, sensing Stiles' mood.

"I hope you're right..." the boy responds, washing his hands in the sink before helping Holly tidy everything away. It's not too easy to put everything back where it belongs, but Deaton luckily has all of the cupboard shelves labelled with tiny pieces of paper and tape.

When the last jar is put away and the cupboards are closed, Stiles stands back up this full height and prepares to leave. There's no point in sticking around the place when he has no use for it. "You ready to go?" he asks Lydia, already walking toward the waiting room. The clicking of her heels lets him know that she's following, and he holds the door open for her so she can step through it without getting hit in the face. Holly brings up the rear, and he and Lydia wave goodbye to her when she announces that she's going to try and pursue other methods of finding her missing friend. After Lydia locks the clinic back up and they're sat once more in her car, he stays silent for most of the drive back to his and Derek's house, only opening his mouth when the girl turns onto the road that leads up to the place. "I hope Deaton's OK... Knowing this town, I bet something's abducted him or something. There seems to have been a whole lot of that this year. These villains should try being more original."

"Yes, well...let's not give up hope just yet, hmm?" Lydia says as she comes to a stop next to Stiles' blue Camaro. While they were gone, Jackson's silver Porsche and Danny's red convertible have appeared, both parked on the other side of Derek's own black Camaro. She prepares herself for more comments about her wig. "Perhaps some visitors will help get your mind off it?"

Silently agreeing, Stiles exits the car after Lydia and walks inside the house behind her.

Jackson appears in the foyer as soon as Stiles closes the door, and he rolls his eyes when the beta looks Lydia up and down with a frown, confused. "It's a wig, dumbass..." he says exasperatedly before walking past him to find Derek.

Surprisingly, he finds the man still in bed, propped up against the pillows with a book open in his lap. The sheets are pooled around Derek's waist, and it feels so good to see him looking so relaxed and content again after the roughness of the past few days. "Hey, you," he greets as he shuts the bedroom door and walks over to the bed, sliding on to the mattress and tilting Derek's book back so he can read the title on the spine. He nods approvingly after he sees the word 'Misery' staring back up at him in a bloody font. When Derek makes a noise of protest, he allows the man to take the book back and continue reading, pressing right up against his side and snuggling into his sleep-warm skin. "Stephen King, huh? Good choice. I've never read that one, though. Is it any good? I've only seen the movie with Kathy Bates. She was super convincing as a crazy-stalker fan."

Stiles shuts himself up when he realises he's rambling, smiling abashedly up at Derek's amused face.

"It's alright," Derek replies after waiting a second just to make sure that Stiles is truly finished. "I'm not very far through, so it's really too soon to tell. I'm enjoying it so far, though I'm not too sure I like his writing style. We'll see. What did you and Lydia get up to? Your note just said you were leaving without saying what you were actually going to be doing." Now that Stiles is back, he closes the book and sets it on the nightstand before tucking his hands behind his head and concentrating on his mate.

"Lydia found a hair with your gold necklace, so I tried to use that in a spell to find our attacker," Stiles explains, snuggling closer and wedging his nose into the crease between Derek's neck and shoulder, breathing him in with a sigh. "It didn't work."

Sensing Stiles' disappointment, Derek rumbles low in his chest so that the vibrations seep through into the boy's body. He knows the sensation can often mollify Stiles' anxiety and frustrations, and he makes full use of it in that moment, ramping the noise up a couple of notches when the teen hums softly and sighs, the exhalation sounding less despondent this time. The only downside to the trick is that it often leads to jokes about him being like a cat, but fortunately Stiles keeps his mouth shut for now. "We'll find another way, love. Don't worry," he comforts quietly, lowering his right arm so he can run a hand up and down the teen's back.

"That's what Lydia said..." Stiles breathes, his eyes closing.

"She's a smart girl; you should listen to her," Derek says cheekily, pressing his lips to Stiles' forehead in a chaste kiss. "Never tell her I said that, though. She'd wouldn't ever let me forget it." He shudders at the thought. For months now, he's already been thinking that the banshee likes to take control of too many situations as it is, something that doesn't really sit right with the alpha wolf in his head. They put up with it, though, knowing things would be worse if he ever dared to complain—what's happened to Jackson each time he's tried to grow a backbone is more than enough reason for him to stay silent. He never wants to be on the receiving end of Lydia's anger because he'd probably be dead before he could scream. The only comfort is that Stiles would give the girl hell right back in his defence. Speaking of his mate, he can tell that the boy still has some nervous energy running through his system.

He was waiting until Stiles got back to take care of his usual morning workout, and he's glad now that he did. It's the perfect opportunity for the teen to burn off that energy.

"Right, c'mon," he instructs, sliding off of the mattress and chuckling when Stiles ends up falling sideways with a groan into the spot he just vacated. "We're going down to the basement so that you can work off your frustration. It'll be good for you." When Stiles still doesn't move, he hikes up the back of the teen's shirt and leans down to blow a series of raspberries right on his spine.

Stiles breaks down into a fit of breathless laughter, squirming desperately away from Derek.

He ends up falling off the other side of the bed with a thump that echoes through the floor. "That was mean!" he gasps as his laughter tapers off, taking Derek's hand when the man walks around to him and offers it. Instead of letting go when he's on his feet, though, he uses the fact that Derek isn't expecting it to his advantage and pulls him closer, tilting his head up and meeting the wolf's lips when they come crashing into his own. He sucks eagerly on Derek's tongue when it invades his mouth, not at all put off by the alpha's lingering morning breath.

They stand there for several long minutes in their own little world, and Stiles only pulls away when his lungs demand air. The dazed look on Derek's face makes him smile, and he pinches the man's cheeks and coos at him sweetly before sauntering away, pleased with himself.

* * *

_\- Sunday, September 23rd, 2012 -_

Sunday begins like any other day, the morning thankfully passing by without incident.

After their usual cuddle session in bed, Stiles and Derek get up at around ten o'clock following a rather impatient Isaac knocking loudly on their door, wanting company. No one else is at the house yet and Danny is unavailable, having gone out of town with his family for the day. Derek groans at being disturbed, but Stiles just pats him on the back and tells him to get over it.

The human teen takes pity on Isaac and ends up enlisting the curly-haired beta's help in doing his chores around the house. This gives Derek a break from helping himself—Stiles sees him heading predictably down into the basement again while he's busy vacuuming in the living room, with Isaac holding the furniture up for him so he can get underneath. He wants to roll his eyes at his mate, thinking that the amount of time Derek spends working out is a little excessive, but he certainly doesn't mind reaping the rewards. Once the last of the vacuuming is done, he gives the device to Isaac to put away in the closet while he straightens everything up again. His eyes land on a picture frame on the wall, the one with the glass still missing, and he makes a mental note to go and get a new frame while he's out buying groceries later that day. So he doesn't forget, he takes the picture off of the wall and puts it on the small table in the foyer, next to the bowl in which he and Derek keep their car keys.

After that, it's not long before more pack members begin arriving. Erica and Boyd show up while Stiles is preparing lunch in advance.

When Isaac looks at him pleadingly, he waves the trio off into the back garden and watches with interest as they quickly get into mischief. It seems like a game of tag, but it's incredibly acrobatic and over the top, all of them showing off their different skills to get one over on the others.

Lydia and Jackson show up just as Stiles puts the finishing touches on his and Derek's food—something simple, just an egg salad sandwich each—and Jackson is quick to leave the redhead in order to join the other three betas outside for some fun. He gets a smug look on his face as he uses his cunning and speed to get the upper hand and outmanoeuvre Isaac and Boyd whenever they get close to touching him. Erica is the one to finally bring him down. She hides quietly up in one of the trees and waits until Jackson runs underneath her, unaware, before leaping from her perch and pouncing on him. The two go rolling, growling playfully at each other as Isaac and Boyd watch on.

"He's such a dork sometimes," Lydia says from beside Stiles, staring out through the window.

Stiles glances over at her and chuckles quietly when he sees the small smile she's trying and failing to hold back. "Yes, but you wouldn't have him any other way and you know it," he teases gently, patting her on the shoulder. "A little dorkiness is a good thing, if you ask me. Some of the best times I've had with Derek have been when he's let himself act like the goofball he really is underneath all that stoicism."

"True..." Lydia sighs, stepping away from the sink and taking one of the sandwiches from the fridge. She takes a bite before Stiles can notice and ignores his protests when he does, smirking around the mouthful as she dances away from his grabbing hands.

"You're such a pain," Stiles mumbles as he gives up, taking another couple of slices of bread out of the bread box and making a start at replacing the sandwich Lydia stole. He's glad when the girl leaves the room then, heading out through the back door to get a better view of the action still taking place in the garden. It's then that Derek appears, hot and sweaty from his workout, and takes a bottle of cool water from the fridge. Stiles watches the man's throat work as he drinks, accidentally spreading mayonnaise on his hand instead of on the bread. He realises his mistake when Derek laughs at him, quickly running his hand under the faucet to rid his skin of the white condiment. Now clean, he elbows the alpha in the stomach to silence him on his way to dry his hands. "Shut up, you! It's your fault, so you don't get to laugh at me." He purses his lips to stop himself from smiling when Derek grabs him and squeezes him tight, peppering his face with kisses in apology. His shirt gets damp as the sweat still on Derek's chest seeps into the fabric, and he pushes the man away before he gets completely soaked.

His work done, Derek gives Stiles a mock salute before heading upstairs to shower.

Downstairs, Stiles quickly puts the finishing touches on the replacement sandwich before wrapping it and putting it on top of the other one still in the fridge. He leaves a note on top of them to deter more thievery—' _Hands off unless you want to be severely punished! I promise I'll get creative! - Stiles_ '

He hopes the threat works because if it doesn't, he'll have to follow through on it when he doesn't actually have anything planned just yet. Hopefully, the spectacle he made of himself earlier in the week when he blasted Scott off of his feet will make the betas think twice about disobeying him. Speaking of his ex-best friend, as he wipes off his hands and walks aimlessly into the living room, he hears the telltale rumble of the crooked-jawed beta's bike getting progressively louder. Pulling back the curtain and looking outside, he sees Scott come up the drive and pull to a stop next to Jackson's Porsche.

At first, he wonders how the other boy could possibly have the nerve to show his face at the house again, but after Scott pulls off his helmet and he sees the apprehension on the beta's face, he reconsiders. _Maybe he's finally come to his senses_ , he thinks as he steps back, letting the curtain fall back into place before Scott can notice him spying. He hopes that's the case.

The sound of growling coming from behind catches Stiles' attention.

Looking around confusedly, he finds the other betas gathered in the foyer, all shifted and ready to attack as soon as Scott comes through the front door. Even Jackson looks pissed on his behalf, which is oddly touching. Even though he appreciates the gesture, he doesn't want to end up having to clean blood off of the hardwood floor, so he hurries over and steps between the betas and the door. "Calm down, guys!" he placates, holding his palms out. "This is between Scott, Derek and I, so why don't you all go back outside while we deal with this, hmm?" He points a finger in the direction of the back door, the corner of his mouth twitching when the betas reluctantly re-sheath their claws and let their eyes return to their natural colours. He calls after them when they turn around and leave the foyer, his voice firm. "And I don't want anybody eavesdropping or coming back in before you're told you can, OK?!"

Preparing himself, Stiles faces the front door and waits for Scott to enter. He's surprised when the beta chooses to knock on the wood instead, but a second of thought leads him to the conclusion that the other boy is letting him choose whether he answers or not.

It's an unexpectedly thoughtful move coming from Scott, so Stiles doesn't leave him waiting. Reaching for the handle, he opens the door and looks the beta up and down before stepping back to let him inside. He doesn't say a word as he leads the way into the living room, wanting to keep Scott on his toes so that he's more likely to slip up if his apology is insincere or he's not really here to give one at all. After Scott remains standing, lingering by the window awkwardly, Stiles rolls his eyes and finally opens his mouth. "Have a seat," he says, pointing to the armchair.

This puts the coffee table between them, something that makes him feel more comfortable.

"Where's Derek?" Scott asks, his voice timid as he lowers himself into the offered chair. The room feels so uncomfortable and tense, with so many things going unsaid, and he can't help looking around as if he expects the alpha or one of the other betas to lunge suddenly out of nowhere and rip his head off for even daring to come back. He's thankful when nothing of the sort happens.

"Showering. He probably already knows you're here, so he should be down soon," Stiles replies, leaning back into the sofa cushions and crossing his legs atop the coffee table.

He projects an air of nonchalance, like Scott's presence isn't affecting him at all. He wants to come off as completely indifferent so that he keeps the higher ground—giving Scott even the smallest inkling that he's dying to forgive him before hearing whatever speech the crooked-jawed boy has come to give would be a step in the wrong direction. He meant what he said that day, that Scott needs to learn his place, and that place right now is expendable. It'll be tough because of how long they were each other's only friend, but he won't hesitate to cut the beta off from the pack entirely if he's given enough reason—he won't let Derek be hurt like that again. He won't stop Allison and Kira from seeing Scott if they choose, but he will forbid the two girls from discussing pack business with him unless if affects him directly, like if his or his mother's lives are in danger. His planning is brought to a stop when he hears footsteps on the stairs, and he turns to watch over his shoulder as a tensed-up Derek comes into view in the foyer, hazel eyes flicking over in Scott's direction before settling on him.

Derek raises an eyebrow at the human teen to ask silently for an explanation.

Patting the seat next to his own, Stiles rests a hand on Derek's hairy thigh when the man takes his place, the thick muscle twitching beneath his palm. Glancing sideways, he sees that his wolf's whole body remains rigid, something he understands. "OK, here's how this discussion is going to go," he begins, drawing both wolves' eyes.

"You're going to say whatever it is you came here to say," he states confidently, addressing Scott directly, "and if both Derek and I think it's good enough, we'll go from there and try to move past what you said before. If, however, we think what you say next is complete bullshit, I'll kick you out and we won't be speaking again. Ever. Got it?" He can feel Derek's approval radiating through their bond, and he squeezes the man's leg reassuringly as he waits for Scott to agree to his terms.

Being in the same room as Scott just five days after their confrontation keeps Derek on edge, but he knows there's no way to work their problems out it if they don't talk.

"Right, OK, that's...that's fair," Scott fumbles to accept, his tongue suddenly feeling large and unwieldy in his mouth as he looks at Derek. "Well...I wanna start this off by saying that I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, saying all of that stuff to you... Well, I do, I guess—I thought I was right then, but I don't now; I know it was wrong. _So_ wrong, like Allison and my mom have been telling me over and over." He laughs humourlessly before clearing his throat to cut the sound off. "Anyway, I was saying what I thought everyone else was thinking, and I was scared that if I didn't speak up, something like that would happen again, only this time Stiles wouldn't make it out alive." He flicks his eyes over to the boy in question at this. "Seeing you acting so lifeless like that again terrified me, and that was without all of the physical injuries factored in. I know it's nobody's fault now, but my fear made me cling to old ideas and Derek was an easy target for the anger I was feeling because I couldn't take it out on the person who was actually responsible.

"I especially want to say I'm sorry for the whole...'rape' thing. That was definitely crossing the line." Scott looks down at his feet, embarrassed and ashamed of his past self. "I'll do whatever I have to do to earn your forgiveness, no matter what it is, and I promise to never say or do anything like that ever again."

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Stiles feels the smallest hint of pride.

He's still not ready to slip right back into his previous friendship with Scott, but he thinks he's willing to put the effort in to get back there. When he really ruminates on the subject, he admits that the two of them grew apart considerably over the last year or so, though a lot of that was simply an unavoidable consequence of their social circles widening beyond just the two of them. He hopes this will be the start of them getting back the close friendship they shared before that fateful night in the preserve.

Even so, he knows it's not solely his decision. "Derek?" he asks, looking sideways at his mate's profile. The man frowns still, thick eyebrows pulled down to meet as he continues studying Scott.

Derek didn't detect a single trace of a lie during Scott's whole speech. Honestly, he thought it would take a lot longer for the beta to reach this point, and he himself isn't really there yet. Even though the bleeding is beginning to slow, because it hasn't been that long since their short argument, the wounds he has from Scott's scathing words are still open. "OK. I accept your apology," he says eventually, after another minute spent watching Scott squirm under his gaze. It made the vindictive part of him feel better, at the very least. He holds up a hand when the beta's face lights up with a relieved grin. "But I'm going to tell you now that I'm not completely ready to move on from what you said just yet; you said those things to hurt me, and that's exactly what they did. I won't object to you being around the house, but it's going to take me a while to forget them. Deal?"

The grin vanishes from Scott's face, but his expression still remains hopeful. "Yeah...totally, dude," he agrees, his hair flopping about as he nods quickly. He feels apprehension when Derek's eyes narrow at being called 'dude', but it fades again when the alpha doesn't tell him off for it.

"Alright, _dude_. I have some work to do, so excuse me," Derek dismisses, getting up to leave.

Once the alpha is gone, Stiles stands and holds his arms out in an invitation that Scott is apparently eager to accept. He's nearly knocked off of his feet when the beta collides with him and squeezes him tight, and he holds on to his friend just as hard. "Don't you ever be that fucking _stupid_ again, OK?" he whispers hoarsely, blinking his eyes rapidly to stop himself from tearing up.

* * *

The rest of the day passes somewhat smoothly. As Stiles thought might happen, Erica and Isaac remain distrustful of Scott, shooting the crooked-jawed beta glare after glare whenever they think he isn't looking. They're not as discreet as they think, though, because Stiles catches them every time. He gives up telling them to back off after the first glare is given, figuring that it's up to Scott to get the two to come around again. Scott seems willing to take up the task, though, which Stiles is happy to see—in his mind, it means his friend was definitely sincere about wanting to make amends, and not just with him and Derek. Speaking of Derek, the alpha stays shut up in his study the whole time, and when Stiles pops in to ask him what he's doing, he just gets a shake of the head and told that he'll find out later. Because it's a school night, most of the pack decide to call it a day earlier than they ordinarily would, returning to their own homes just after nine o'clock.

Luckily, by that point, Isaac has warmed up to Scott again enough to go with him, grudgingly sitting behind the crooked-jawed beta on his bike as they speed down the long driveway and out onto the main road. Stiles is frankly glad for the peace and quiet because the noisy betas were driving him insane.

It's too late for him to go shopping for groceries as he originally planned, so he settles instead for spending the remainder of the night binge-watching all the episodes he's missed of _Game of Thrones_.

Derek finally emerges from his study and joins Stiles in the living room when the last episode has almost concluded, falling down into his usual seat with a sigh and slinging his arm casually over the back of sofa. He plays with the short hairs at the back of Stiles' neck as the final scene plays out on screen, not really following along with the plot at all since he's never watched an episode before. Thankfully, it's a show Stiles hasn't forced him into watching just yet.

That could easily change, though, so he makes sure to keep quiet about it.

After the episode finishes, Stiles gets up from his seat and begins tidying up all the mess the betas left behind. Most of it is in the kitchen from when they polished off pretty much all of the remaining junk food in the house, with Scott eating a whole jar of hot dogs because he was 'starving to death'. It's only when he's finished that he feels eyes on his back, so after turning off the tap and drying his hands, he turns to find Derek leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed over his chest. "What's up?" he asks, his frown growing more prominent when Derek just keeps staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. It's worrying, mainly because he's never been unable to tell exactly what Derek is thinking—even back when they first met, he could easily work out what was running through the man's mind, regardless of whether or not he was actually paying close attention.

"It's nothing," Derek replies evasively, his expression finally changing as a small smile appears on his lips. "I'll see you upstairs, OK?"

Without waiting for a response, Derek walks from the room and leaves Stiles standing in the kitchen, feeling more baffled than ever. Shaking his head, the boy does a cursory sweep of the ground floor just to make sure everything is in order, switching off lights and locking doors and windows as he goes.

He plans on annoying Derek as much as he can when he gets into their bedroom, not relenting until the man coughs up whatever is on his mind. It's one of his favourite games to play. He narrows his eyes at Derek as he passes by on his way to the bathroom, leaning back as he walks through the doorway so that the man stays in view for as long as possible. He almost falls flat on his back doing it, but he knows it's worth it when he hears Derek chuckling away quietly in the other room as a result of his buffoonery. Quickly brushing his teeth and relieving himself with a flush, he switches off the bathroom light before returning to the bedroom and sliding beneath the covers next to Derek. "So, are you gonna tell me what you were up to all day or are you gonna make me pry it out of you?" he asks, leaning back against the headboard and smoothing the sheets out across his lap. The lamp on Derek's bedside table is the only light source in the room, making everything feel comfortably intimate.

He keeps his eyes on Derek as the man puts his book away.

"I had a special therapy session with Sheila, quite a lengthly one," Derek answers, smiling kindly when Stiles' eyes widen and his mouth drops open. "I've been talking with her in secret ever since Tuesday, and she was nice enough to clear her schedule once I told her everything that's gone on with me over the past few years. She agreed to talk today, too, even though it's the weekend and she wasn't technically supposed to be working at all."

"Gee, thanks for telling me," Stiles says sarcastically when Derek comes to a halt. He changes his tone fast after that, though, adopting a more positive attitude. "Do you think it's helping?"

Nodding, Derek flings back the sheets so that they're both uncovered.

"Uhh...what're you doing?" Stiles asks confusedly when Derek grabs his ankles and pulls him down along the bed until his head comes off the pillows. He only becomes more perplexed when the man climbs atop him, strong hands pressed into the mattress either side of his head.

"I'm making love to you," Derek replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. His voice is low and husky, and he doesn't give Stiles a chance to respond before easing himself down completely and laying the full weight of his body atop his mate's. His tongue slides easily past Stiles' parted lips, the boy's mouth still open in shock, and it takes a few seconds for Stiles to react, slender legs parting to let him fit more comfortably in between and his lips beginning to move, reciprocating the kiss. Derek growls into it when hands fist in his hair, fingers tangling and tugging gently. His cock twitches in his underwear, steadily getting harder as he grinds his hips down deliberately against Stiles' more bony pair. It's not long before the friction seemingly becomes too much for his mate, and he feels the teen shudder against him as wetness spreads between them and soaks through the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs. The scent of Stiles' come is too intense for words as he tears his mouth away to look down at the mess the boy has made already.

His cheeks flushing red, Stiles feels embarrassed at losing control so quickly. "It's been a while, OK?" he excuses, quickly shutting up when Derek grins down at him devilishly, his fangs glinting in the low light. He watches, enraptured, as Derek crawls down the length of his body and curls fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down slowly.

Stiles' crotch is wet and sticky with come, and Derek just has to get closer.

He licks in long lines over the boy's softening cock, collecting all of his release on his tongue and moaning as the taste explodes in his mouth. He savours each and every drop before swallowing it all somewhat reluctantly. "So fucking delicious..." he whispers, licking his lips.

Beckoning Stiles to sit up, Derek yanks the teen's shirt off over his head before pushing him back down so forcefully that he bounces a couple of times against the mattress. Miles of pale skin call to him, so he wastes no time running his mouth over every inch, flicking his tongue out over the first mole he encounters and playing Connect the Dots with the rest. Stiles arches up into him, knocking him off course, so he presses a hand down in the centre of the boy's chest to hold him in place as he continues from where he left off. He reaches the hard nub of Stile's left nipple and sucks it into his mouth, biting down on it, pulling it gently with him as he draws back and releasing it before the pain becomes too much. He plays his mate like he's a skilled musician and Stiles' body is his finely tuned instrument, knowing instinctively just what notes to hit to make the boy sing.

It's good to know that nothing has changed.

Stiles fists his hands in the sheets, pulling on them until they threaten to tear. His toes curl and his mouth drops open in a drawn-out groan, the slight twinge of pain combined with the overwhelming pleasure making him see stars behind his closed eyelids. It's all happening so fast, much faster than he originally thought—he was sure that Derek would need at least another few weeks to work through enough of his demons and reach the point where he was ready to be intimate again.

He's glad to have been proven wrong, though, quickly getting caught up in all the sensations Derek is making him feel, to the point where his breath comes in short, his head tipped back as he pants out his pleasure. Derek's mouth feels like hot heaven.

Moving on to Stiles' other nipple, Derek gives the second nub the same treatment, his hands curling around the teen's hips and holding on tight. It takes some effort to push past the want to keep his claws hidden, but he manages it eventually, the sharp tips digging into pale, fragile skin almost to the point of piercing it. The fact that Stiles' moans only get louder makes it easier.

Finally releasing his mate's sore nipple and sitting back to inspect his handiwork, he can't help but hum in satisfaction when he sees how red and tender they look.

"Beautiful..." he mutters, breathless.

Stiles whines quietly in confusion when, all at once, every exquisite sensation he was feeling stops abruptly. He cracks his eyes open and blinks hazily, watching Derek as he moves and pins his legs down, firm ass coming to rest on his thighs. "Why'd you stop?" he rasps, feeling his heart skip in his chest when Derek just grins at him again and grabs the hem of his Henley in both hands. Stiles is left breathless when the shirt is pulled off and the impressively defined physique he adores is revealed. Every sharp line and groove just begs to be worshipped, but when he tries to sit up and actually touch the man, Derek pauses in his undressing and stops him with a growl of disapproval. His wolf tells him that he wants to devote the entirety of the night to him, and Stiles is more than happy to let him have that. He lies back once more and enjoys the rest of the show, saliva quickly building in his mouth as he looks on. Content to just watch for the time being, if he still wants to—which he obviously will—he knows he can run his hands over Derek's body all he wants later on.

As he always is, Stiles is left mesmerised when Derek finally pulls his shirt off completely and tosses it aside. The bedside lamp provides just enough light for him to see everything, the faint yellow glow of it making Derek's skin look especially tanned and warm.

His mouth waters.

Derek's chest puffs out as he revels in the attention, showing off. The fact that he can still affect Stiles with just his naked flesh makes him feel proud and strong, like he can do anything. His cock is painfully hard, so he rises to his knees and yanks his underwear down, his thick length slapping up against hair-dusted abs when the waistband slips past the leaking head.

Flinging the offending garment across the room to land in a ball on the floor, he moves forward and grabs their lube from the top drawer of his nightstand. He doesn't miss the way Stiles' pupils dilate with arousal when he pulls the bottle out and gives him an indication of what's to come.

Swinging himself around so that he faces the foot of the bed, Derek looks over his shoulder to make sure he's positioned perfectly as he shuffles backward.

When Derek's gorgeous ass comes to a stop right in front of his face, Stiles takes it as a clear sign that he can finally actively participate. When Derek bends his legs back to get at his hole with a lube-slathered finger, he parts the alpha's own hairy cheeks and dives right in with his tongue, flicking it up the crack and breathing in the musky scent with a moan. Derek pushes back onto his tongue until he's practically sitting on his face, something of which Stiles vehemently approves. Derek must be listening to his heartbeat, because every time he gets close to running out of air, the man shifts forward and gives him a second to refill his lungs before smothering him once more with his delicious ass. Nothing but Derek's scent fills his nostrils, intoxicating him and driving him wild, and he squeezes the man's cheeks in his hands at the same time a second finger slides into him. The fine, dark hairs of Derek's ass catch between his fingers as he digs his nails into the muscular globes.

A groan works its way out of Derek's throat as Stiles' slick tongue worms its way inside his body, and he presses his mouth against the teen's inner thigh to muffle the sound. He'll never get used to how vulnerable it makes him feel, and it's all he can do to keep his fingers moving, preparing.

The tight ring of muscle gradually loosens under his ministrations, and soon enough he finds he's able to add a third and final finger without encountering any resistance. He really can't wait to slide his cock deep inside. His own hole seems to be heading the same way as Stiles coaxes him to relax and open up, the teen's pulsing tongue fucking deep inside and almost making his legs give out.

He'll have to sit on Stiles' face more often, it feels so good.

Finally concluding that his mate is adequately prepared, Derek drops Stiles' legs and turns around, chuckling when the boy pouts up at him. Stiles is obviously not pleased that he took his fingers and ass away, but he knows the next part will have him quickly singing a different tune. "What's the matter? Don't you want this?" he asks teasingly, running a hand down his body until he reaches his cock, hard as steel as it leaks pre-come all over the sheets.

"I guess..." Stiles admits, his pout disappearing as the man gets into position. He curls his legs around Derek's hips and pulls him closer, squirming impatiently when his wolf's cock slots into the crack of his ass without actually entering him. His restlessness only increases when Derek just stays hovering above him, hands on either side of his head, watching silently with red eyes. "Do I have to beg again?" He's not above it if that means he'll finally get Derek's wonderfully filling length inside of him again, something he's sorely missed. Luckily, his words seem to be enough for Derek. The alpha shakes his head as if clearing it before smirking down at him and unlocking his elbows, lowering himself so that Stiles' re-hardened cock is trapped between their stomachs. The field of hair on Derek's chest tickles his still-sensitive nipples to the point where he squirms to try and get away, but it's pointless. Derek's powerful arms don't let him go, not that he truly wants to be anywhere else.

Pinned beneath his mate's muscular frame is his favourite place to be.

Waiting until Stiles' eyes meet his again, Derek slowly presses forward until the head of his cock pops past his fluttering rim. The boy feels so unbearably tight still, even after taking three of his fingers, so much so that it feels like their first time all over again.

Moving slowly out of necessity, he eases himself home inch by inch until he's sheathed to the hilt within warm perfection. Stiles' head tips back again and he rests his forehead on the boy's chin, waiting as he gets used to being stretched so wide again. His breathing is laboured and his body shakes as he holds himself still, not wanting to move until his mate gives him the all-clear.

Stiles digs his nails into Derek's back as he's slowly split apart, filled steadily until it almost becomes too much to take. The initial penetration feels so raw and intense that it's like he's losing his virginity again, and he thinks that's a nice way to look at things. It's like they're completely erasing that horrible evening from their lives and starting anew. He groans quietly into Derek's hair when the man pushes forward a final time and the last inch slips inside, weighty balls coming to rest against the curve of his ass. Having to wait until his channel acclimates to being stretched so wide once more verges on agonising, so he focuses instead on the feeling of Derek's hot breaths as they blow across his neck.

They stay like that for several minutes, holding on to each other tightly, their eyes closed.

An experimental squeeze of his ass around Derek's thick cock lets Stiles know that the initial discomfort has passed, meaning the man can finally begin moving. He winds the fingers of one hand into Derek's hair and gently pulls his head up, pecking him affectionately on the tip of his nose before speaking. "OK, Sourwolf; you can move now," he whispers huskily, his mouth remaining parted on a gasp when the man immediately does just that.

The pleasure he feels when Derek's length begins sliding slowly in and out leaves Stiles breathless, and he can do nothing but cling to the wolf as he loses himself in their lovemaking.

After withdrawing until just the head of his cock remains inside Stiles' ass, Derek's eyes roll back in his head with the next push in. The tight heat feels like paradise, like everything that's good and right in the universe has been combined and condensed down to surround his cock. He can't believe that someone would ever want to take something so pure and sacred and taint it, making it ugly and full of pain, and he's more thankful now than ever that it didn't work. He feels so full of love that his heart is fit to burst and his mind empties of everything else until his whole world is narrowed down to the beautiful boy moaning beneath him. His wonderful mate is all that matters to him in that moment. When Stiles releases his hair, he lets his head fall again so that his face is buried in the curve of the teen's neck, his lips pressed just above the pulse point. He sucks the skin into his mouth and bites down on it, nibbling to leave his mark on the vulnerable flesh.

Every time Derek's cock glides smoothly inside him again, it sets off fireworks behind Stiles' eyelids, the head nudging insistently at his prostate and punching a breath from his lungs. It feels like too much and not enough at the same time, and he turns his head to the side and hides his face in Derek's forearm to stop the sounds pouring from his mouth from getting too loud.

To ground himself, he curls one of his hands around the back of Derek's shoulder and reaches down with the other to grab hold of the man's strong thigh. The thick muscle flexes beneath tanned, hair-dusted skin with every slow thrust.

The pace never changes, Derek's movements staying languid and unerringly precise in their aim. The alpha releases Stiles' neck from between his teeth after almost a full five minutes of worrying it, drawing his face back to look at the result. The rumbling in his chest that's been a constant ever since he first made Stiles come gets louder with approval when he sees the mark he's made, dark against the teen's pale skin, and he licks over it a couple of times to soothe the ache.

Stiles arches up into the slick feeling of Derek's tongue, a breathy moan of his name slipping out.

Now that he's able to move freely without fear of hurting the boy, Derek levers himself up on his hands so that he can look down between their bodies and watch himself. Stiles' hand slips from his shoulder with the change, sliding down his arm and holding on to his wrist instead. The fact that the teen can't seem to let him go even for a second is touching. Stiles' legs are still clamped around his hips, heels digging into his ass to prevent him from pulling out much more than halfway, as if he would ever think of leaving the exquisite warmth wrapped around him. No, he wants to stay right where he is for the rest of his life, making love to his perfect mate for eternity. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, declare just how much Stiles means to him to the whole world so that everyone knows, just as much as he wants to keep it a secret, something shared and treasured just by the two of them. His wolf is finally happy again, howling in his head in joy now instead of pain, the sound close to deafening.

He wants to howl himself, but he holds off, so entranced is he by the sight of Stiles' face scrunched up in pleasure and the litany of moans and mewls that escape his mouth even as he tries to keep quiet.

It doesn't take much longer for Stiles to feel his second orgasm approaching. He holds on to Derek tighter, biting so hard into the man's forearm when it crests that he actually breaks the skin. Arcs of viscous come shoot forth from his cock, coating his stomach in white and making Derek's thrusts falter. Blood coats his lips, but he doesn't mind the taste.

The sensation of Stiles' ass clenching down hard around him makes Derek whine, his arms almost giving out as he holds himself buried deep inside, his hips flush with his mate's ass. He'd forgotten just how amazing it feels to be inside Stiles while the boy comes, and the scent of his release as it fills his nose turns him on so much that his knot suddenly seems to blossom into existence, growing rapidly just behind Stiles' fluttering rim. His own orgasm is almost milked from him, the rhythmic clenching of Stiles' ass around his knot overwhelming him and making him push it in even further, burying it deeper until there's no space between them.

His balls draw up and his whole body tenses as it finally happens.

Derek's cock pulses wildly as it spurts copious amounts of seed, more than he ever remembers producing before. There's so much that Stiles' stomach actually starts to distend, swelling full and glistening with his own come in the low light, and he can't resist collecting some of the slowly drying fluid in his hand and rubbing it into the skin over his heart, smearing it around until he's marked and his chest hair is matted down with the stuff. It's then that he feels Stiles' hand in his hair again, trying to get his attention. Tearing his eyes away from his own chest, he peers down at the teen curiously, his hips still moving in tiny circles as his orgasm continues and Stiles' stomach grows even more. Before he can open his mouth to ask what his mate wants, he's pulled him down until his face hovers just above the juncture between the boy's shoulder and neck, his breaths puffing out across the scar of his mating bite. He still can't quite figure out what Stiles is asking for, but the teen doesn't leave him hanging.

"Bite me..." Stiles gasps, Derek's knot pressing right up against his prostate, keeping him hard even though his orgasm is over.

"W-what?" Derek chokes, teeth turning into fangs and his mouth already lowering even as he tries to get his brain to function. It's a strange request, one that takes him a while to understand. The whole night has felt like them wiping the slate clean and starting fresh, and eventually he guesses that Stiles wants to commemorate it by renewing their bond.

When Stiles says just that, his voice breathy, Derek doesn't keep him waiting. He sinks his teeth down in the exact same places he did all those months before, reopening the wound and causing blood to fill his mouth. It's not a changing bite—the intent needs to be there for that—but it affects him just as much. While their bond never died during their time apart, it feels somehow stronger when Stiles bites into his neck with human teeth and claims him right back. It shines brighter and he feels the boy's emotions more clearly as it's completed for a second time.

Stiles is of a similar mind, glad that the idea popped into his head when it did.

Releasing the boy from his mouth, Derek flips them around so that he's lying on his back and Stiles is sprawled atop him, breathing into his neck. His hands rub up and down the boy's back, unable to stop moving and touching and loving him. He's so happy he wants to cry.

"Love you, Sourwolf..." Stiles whispers sleepily into Derek's neck, his eyes closing as the man beneath him returns the words. His wolf smells so good, like sweat and come and home, that he's quickly lulled to sleep by it, his nose twitching as he begins snoring softly, dreaming of nothing but the two of them together. A contented smile appears on his lips as he relives all the best parts of their relationship on repeat, his body losing every ounce of tension because he knows instinctively that he's safe with Derek's arms holding him tight.


	19. Subterfuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** this chapter contains watersports (sexual acts involving urination), so if that doesn't appeal to you, skip the first half.

_\- Monday, September 24th, 2012 -_

Stiles wakes up early the following morning to fingers walking up and down his spine.

He makes a small noise of protest at his sleep being disturbed before blinking his eyes open and stretching. Derek sends him a shy smile from where he lies a few inches away, the man's head resting on the other pillow, and Stiles can't help returning it with one of his own. "Hey," he greets, yawning as his wolf's fingers resume their path up his back, tickling him lightly.

"Hey," Derek responds, feeling so relaxed and content that he can't stop smiling, not that he wants to. After Stiles fell asleep the previous night, he'd waited until his knot went down before easing himself out from under the teen and cleaning them both up a little. He contemplated for a minute about how he should handle the come that was slowly trickling out of Stiles' stretched and well-used hole, whether he should clean as much of it up as he could or keep it all inside somehow. In the end, his wolf's excitement for the latter option won out. He was quick to retrieve their black plug from the back of their dresser and ease it slowly and carefully inside Stiles' hole, using the come that had already slipped out during his thinking to slick the way. When Stiles whined quietly into his pillow at the initial breach, close to waking, he ran a hand down the boy's side to soothe and lull him back under. The action worked, and a small, pleased smile appeared on his lips when he found he was able to push the widest part of the plug past Stiles' abused rim without disturbing him any more.

While he knew he'd shot a lot of the stuff beforehand, he still found himself shocked when more of his come was pushed out to make room for the last inch of cool plastic, getting all over his fingers and the bedding between Stiles' parted legs. He reasoned that, because it had been almost three weeks since his last orgasm, he had a lot built up to release, and like he'd known it would, his wolf rumbled low in his head at the thought of all that come kept up inside their mate's ass where it belonged.

The fact gives their scent a sense of permanence that will follow Stiles around for days.

After the plug was settled, he ran a damp washcloth over their skin to rid them of their combined dried sweat. With Stiles, he took extra care to keep his touches gentle so as to not accidentally wake him—that would've rendered his earlier care with the plug pointless.

Purposefully, he'd avoided his own chest, wanting to keep Stiles' scent on himself for as long as he could manage, and once that was done, he tossed the washcloth in the laundry hamper and downed a couple of glasses of water to rehydrate his body. His stomach heavy with the cool liquid, he'd finally slipped back into bed next to his mate, pulled him close, and drifted off. He hadn't slept well in almost a month, so it was a relief to get a full night of rest again.

"What's the smile for?" Stiles asks, turning on his side and propping his head up on his hand so he has a better view of Derek's face. It's a beautiful sight to see, the alpha lying next to him looking sleep-ruffled and like he doesn't have a care in the world.

It makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Derek pulls the blankets up a little further so that he's more snuggled in. "I just feel good this morning," he replies quietly, elaborating when Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. "I don't know... I mean, I definitely thought I was ready for last night going in, but I guess actually proving to myself that I can make love to you without having any troubles was enough to get rid of all the worries I still had from...you know." Stiles runs his free hand up his arm as he speaks. He grabs it in one of his own and brings it up to his lips, kissing the pale skin before linking their fingers together.

"I'm glad," Stiles responds after a second, his eyes never leaving his wolf's handsome face.

"How do you feel?" Derek enquires after a minute of easy silence has passed, the two of them just lying there together without feeling the urge to fill it. Unlike a lot of the times they've been alone with each other since Derek returned, it doesn't seem awkward in the slightest. He feels so close to Stiles in that moment, and it's nice to finally get back to the casual touches they shared before.

Stiles takes a few seconds to mull over the question. "I'm amazing," he decides resolutely, watching the movement of Derek's thumb over the back of his hand. "Last night was perfect." He still feels comfortably full, and a clench around the plug in his ass tells him why.

Humming in satisfaction, Derek shifts over onto his back and lies with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling and just letting the time drift past. The room is lit with both his and Stiles' bedside lamps, but he can just about see the sun beginning to rise through the drawn curtains. The clock to his right tells him that they have about an hour before Stiles has to get up for school, putting a bit of a damper on his mood, but he refuses to be brought down and brushes it off before it can really grip him. Stiles moves closer after a while, pressing up against his side and laying his head on his chest, and he gladly parts his legs a little bit so that the teen can fit one of his own between them. His eyes slip closed and he hums in pleasure when Stiles begins stroking a hand across his left pectoral, sliding across tanned skin and playing with the dark hairs of his chest. The gentle touches make him feel completely at peace, and he wishes they could spend the whole day lying just as they are, trading affection-filled kisses and making love over and over and over.

It would be interesting to see just how many times they could do it in one day.

The sound of Stiles' soft breathing combined with the birds he can hear chirping in the trees outside the window acts almost like a lullaby. The only thing that actually stops him from falling back to sleep is his uncomfortably full bladder, and he really regrets drinking that extra glass of water the night before when the pressure keeps increasing, making him squirm.

"What's up?" Stiles asks confusedly when he notices Derek's hips shifting beneath his leg. He picks his head up so that he can look down at the man, his own eyebrows drawing together when he sees the frown on Derek's face, his mouth a tight line.

Squinting open one eye, Derek huffs in annoyance before finally giving in to his body's needs. "As badly as I don't want to move, I really have to pee..." he sighs as he gently pushes Stiles off and throws back the sheets. He slides out of bed, completely comfortable in his nudity, and hears Stiles move to follow as he heads into the bathroom and switches on the light. The toilet beckons him, but before he can step in front of it and relieve himself, Stiles' arms come around his waist and stop him. He whines but stays put when a hand rubs over his lower stomach.

"I have a thought..." Stiles announces, speaking quietly with his mouth close to Derek's ear.

"Well, make it quick; I don't think I can hold it much longer," Derek groans impatiently, tilting his head back and gritting his teeth. Because his mind is focused on how much he needs to urinate, he doesn't connect the dots between the situation and Stiles speaking sensuously in his ear until it's actually spelled out for him. Once the boy explains himself, though, his eyes snap open in shock.

Chuckling, Stiles nibbles on his mate's earlobe for a second before releasing it, and his hand travels further down Derek's body until his fingers wind themselves through the wiry curls that surround the man's soft cock. "You remember that conversation we had right before I helped you shower a couple of weeks ago?" he asks, pausing and smirking when he hears Derek inhale sharply. "Well...I was thinking that maybe we could actually do it now. If you want to. I mean, you seem really desperate to go, so there must be a lot in there, and I kinda wanna know what it's like to feel all of that hot piss running over my skin. On my face, in my hair...in my mouth. Wanna drink you down, Der. Wanna be filled even more with you..." He knows he has Derek convinced already when his cock twitches and begins to harden, but he carries on spewing filth anyway, just to get the man even more fired up. "Think about it: having me down on my knees in front of you as you mark me as yours in every way. How good would that feel, covering me absolutely in your scent so that no one would ever _dare_ touch me?"

Stiles practically purrs the last part, moving his hand slowly along Derek's cock.

The alpha's body shakes as he allows his animalistic instincts to take over, his claws and fangs coming out, his eyes glowing red and coarse hair growing down the sides of his face. He spins out of Stiles' arms and grabs the teen, practically throwing him into the shower stall.

Even though he feels unbelievably desperate to put everything Stiles just said into practice, he still has enough sense to know that doing it anywhere else would lead to a lot of unnecessary cleanup. He slams the stall door closed after stepping inside and pounces on his mate, pushing him up against the cold tiles and devouring his mouth. His tongue slides easily past Stiles' lips, and his growls get louder and echo around the small space when the teen begins sucking on it eagerly.

Feeling helpless when Derek captures his wrists and holds them tightly above his head, restraining him, Stiles whimpers as the alpha continues to plunder his mouth. The sense of helplessness only serves to arouse him more, and the desperation he feels for the man ramps up until it's almost unbearable, his cock quickly joining the party where it's pressed against Derek's between their bodies.

Their lengths rub together maddeningly as Derek's copious pre-come slicks the way.

Derek's fangs mean he can't quite go all out like he wants, but that doesn't seem to bother Stiles, who writhes against him and moans into the kiss. He drinks up the sounds like they're cool water and he's a man dying of thirst in a desert; they affect him so much that the reason he even manhandled the boy into the shower almost goes forgotten, but fortunately, the urgency of his full bladder doesn't let Stiles' earlier words actually slip his mind. After another minute of sloppy kissing, he steps back and pulls Stiles with him, curling clawed hands around bony shoulders and pushing the teen down to kneel before him on the porcelain of the shower basin. It's such an erotic sight, one that's full of submission and supplication, that his already hard cock gets impossibly more so, standing out straight and proud from between his legs. The length is like iron when he begins stroking it slowly, and the way Stiles' eyes track the movement with obvious hunger fills him with such satisfaction that he just has to tease the teen some more. He watches as Stiles' tongue sweeps out across reddened and kiss-swollen lips.

Stiles is mesmerised as he watches Derek's hand move, the man's cock just inches from his face. The foreskin is drawn back enticingly with every stoke, and the sight of the head being revealed and hidden again and again makes him dizzy with lust. He longs to slide his tongue beneath the hood of extra skin and collect the delectable flavours he knows are waiting for him there, the day-old sweat and come he never gets sick of tasting, especially when faint traces of urine are added in.

The pulsing slit is revealed every time Derek pulls back his foreskin, promising torrents of hot piss for him to bathe in and drink down like the sweetest wine. He sits back on his heels and groans when the plug still in his ass gets pushed even deeper inside, pressing right up against his prostate. It makes his impatience grow even more, his own cock jerking and leaking between his legs.

He can't wait any longer, and luckily he doesn't have to.

"You ready?" Derek grunts out, the tenuous control he has over his bladder beginning to wane. The nerve endings gathered just behind the head of his cock are stimulated with every movement of his hand, only furthering his lust, and his chest heaves with the effort it takes to hold it back.

His eyes reluctantly leaving the beautiful cock right in front of them, Stiles glances up at Derek's face and swallows as he nods and manages a husky, "Yes." He's in awe at how affected the man already looks by what's happening and is sure he looks the same, his cheeks and neck just as flushed. Derek's eyes look piercingly into his, searching for the truth in his words, and the red glow of his irises gets brighter when he apparently finds it. Stiles readies himself and bears his neck in a clear signal for Derek to start off there. The wait is excruciating, but he knows it must be difficult for his wolf to let go when he's as turned on as he is. When he hears Derek sigh and feels the first splash of hot piss on his skin, though...it's all worth it. It's more than he could have ever hoped it would be. Derek's head is thrown back with the ecstasy he feels at finally emptying his bladder—a feeling with which Stiles is intimately familiar—and his abs twitch as he holds himself still. Stiles tracks his eyes down every flexing muscle of Derek's body until he gets to the man's cock, and the sight of the yellowish urine jetting forth from the gaping slit takes his breath away.

The stream is so strong and seems endless. He wishes it truly was.

He's so turned on by the hot liquid sluicing down over his body that he actually shakes with it, his breathing turning shaky. Derek's eyes are on him again and his top lip is curled back with a constant, quiet growl, so he feels like putting on more of a show. He darts forward into the stream until it covers his face and gets all in his hair, drenching him from head to toe.

The scent of Derek's piss is so pungent and the taste of what little slips between his lips is so delicious that he can't hold back his curiosity any longer. He opens his mouth wide and catches the stream on his tongue, letting it fill him up before swallowing and returning for a second mouthful.

He's so caught up in the taste and feel of Derek's piss on his skin that he doesn't notice his own bladder beginning to empty, his cock jerking wildly between his legs as it shoots clear urine between Derek's spread legs, hitting the wall opposite. It's only when it tapers off that he realises what's just happened, but he doesn't care. Now that he no longer needs to piss, he can focus more on his need for release and the hot liquid that continues to fill his mouth and make him moan.

All of a sudden, Derek fists his hair roughly and his eyes slip closed in pleasured pain.

Every drop of pre-come that bubbles up from his own cock is quickly washed away by the enormous amount of piss that overflows from his mouth. Stiles wraps a hand around the hard length and begins jerking himself off quickly, chasing his orgasm. Derek's piss provides just enough slickness, and the feel of all that warn liquid enveloping him where it gathers in between his fingers is so exquisite that it doesn't take long at all for his orgasm to hit. He groans loudly as he shoots all over Derek's legs and the bottom of the shower, and his release is quick to join the flow of piss on its way down the drain, unfortunately wasted. When he comes down from his high, he's shocked to find that Derek is still going and guesses that the man wasn't kidding earlier when he said he was desperate. It seems a shame to let any more of it go to waste than he has to, so he parts his lips once more and swirls the salty and bitter liquid around his mouth, savouring it before swallowing. It seems odd that everything that comes out of Derek's body is delicious to him, his sweat, his come, his piss...but he's more than happy to revel in the taste of it all and beg for more.

The feeling of warm liquid filling him up is wonderfully satisfying.

In fact, it's so good that Stiles just has to wrap his lips around the head of Derek's cock and drink his piss straight from the source. He slaps the man's hand away and keeps the length steady with his own as his throat works to keep up with powerful stream, swallowing every few seconds so that his mouth doesn't overflow again and he doesn't miss any. His eyes close in euphoria, and he can very much see himself becoming as desperate for Derek's piss as he is for his come.

Unfortunately, all things have to come to an end eventually. The rate at which his mouth fills slows as Derek's bladder gets close to emptying completely, and he whines in disappointment as he laps up the last few drops from the man's slit. It's strange to be so sad about having no more of Derek's piss to drink, but if he's honest with himself, he always knew he'd be a kinky bastard, so it's really no surprise.

Stiles' stomach feels so warm and full, and he rubs a hand over it contentedly as Derek's cock slips from his mouth with a wet pop, still rock-hard and dripping pre-come now instead of piss.

His urgent need to urinate now sated, Derek's body finally loses some of its tension. The fact that Stiles is covered in his piss, thoroughly marking him as _his_ , makes his cock twitch with anticipation when he wraps his hand around it again with the intent of bringing himself off fast. He doesn't get very far, though, because Stiles springs to his feet a second later and grabs hold of his wrist, stopping him. "Umm...what?" he asks stupidly. He can't find the mental capacity to make his question any more eloquent than that, but he thinks it's not a necessity because Stiles seems to understand what he means anyway. A finger is held up to his lips and his hand his gently pulled away from his cock a second later, and he whines in disappointment at having his release denied. He's about to demand to know just what Stiles is thinking when he catches a whiff of the stench clinging to the boy's finger, and he simply has to suck it into his mouth to taste himself, Stiles watching him all the while as he swirls his tongue around the digit and rids it of all traces of urine.

"You think you can stop yourself from knotting?" Stiles asks as he slips his finger from Derek's mouth.

"Uhh, I don't know; I've never tried to before," Derek replies confusedly, tilting his head to the side. He doesn't need to ask the reason for Stiles' question, already correctly guessing that the boy wants to know if he can be fucked without being split open on his knot and tied together, probably because of the lack of time he has until school. They're probably already cutting it close as it is.

Biting his lip, Stiles weighs his options before deciding that his need to be fucked is more important than the possibility of being late for his first class. He grins at Derek and smashes their mouths together, groaning when he's quickly pressed tightly between the wall and hard muscle.

"Let's find out..." Derek whispers huskily against his mate's lips. He hefts Stiles up so that he's pinned against the wall, slender legs wrapping around his hips, before reaching between the boy's cheeks and playing with the plug still keeping all of yesterday night's come inside. Twisting the plastic, he begins drawing it out slowly and breathes in all of Stiles' moans and whines when he pushes it back inside. He does it again and again until he gets bored and pulls it out completely, but he doesn't throw it away just yet.

Stiles blinks his eyes open when something hard nudges insistently at his lips.

When he sees the plug in front of his face, glistening with Derek's come in the harsh bathroom light, he flicks his eyes up to meet the man's glowing red pair before taking it inside. He allows Derek to fuck his mouth with it, slurping noisily around it and swallowing all of the come he can get off its warm surface. The fact that the plug is warm because it was just buried deep inside of his own ass is delightfully dirty, and it makes his cock twitch with interest between their stomachs. Eventually, the delectable taste of Derek's come lessens to the point where all he can detect is plastic, and he grunts once to let the man know he's had enough. He almost gets down to the widest part of the plug when Derek presses it in one last time, but then the wolf drops it with a thud to the bottom of the shower and reaches back down to play with his gaping hole. Come has been leaking steadily out ever since the plug was withdrawn, and he bangs his head back against the wall as he feels fingers penetrate him deep, forcing even more of the stuff out.

Just to make sure Stiles is still open enough, Derek doesn't stop until he gets up to four digits. Only then does he allow his fingers to leave that welcoming warmth, but instead of shoving his cock straight inside like they both want, he holds his hand up in front of Stiles' face.

As he thought, the boy immediately begins licking up the length of his arm, lapping up every drop of come than ran out of his ass. Derek thinks Stiles looks absolutely beautiful. The teen's skin shines with his piss, his eyelashes clumped together and his hair dripping with the cooling liquid, and the sight of it all makes him hunger. While Stiles is still preoccupied with collecting come, he closes the distance between them and licks his own wide stripes up the side of the boy's face, collecting the piss clinging to his skin. He doesn't swallow any of it, and when Stiles is done cleaning off his arm and blinks at him with his lips still parted around heavy breaths, he spits it all into the boy's waiting mouth.

Stiles is shocked at first, but he quickly gets with it and opens wide as Derek repeats the process.

Minutes later, when he runs out of skin to lick, Derek wastes no more time. He reaches between them and lines the head of his cock up with Stiles' hole, snapping his hips forward and burying himself balls-deep inside with one thrust. Not even thinking of waiting for the boy to get used to him, he starts up a brutal rhythm and grunts with the exertion, Stiles' arms wrapping around his shoulders, short nails digging into the back of his neck.

After being hard for so long, it doesn't take him long to feel a fire stirring in his lower stomach, telling him that his orgasm is fast approaching. He concentrates on not letting his knot form, smirking arrogantly when he finds he's actually able to do it.

Before Stiles knows what's going on, Derek is thrusting in one, two, three more times before coming to a sudden stop and groaning into his neck. When he feels the man's cock jerking inside of his ass, he realises what's happening and starts working his hand over his own re-hardened length to bring himself off, too. He wants Derek to feel his ass clamping down hard.

He almost whites out when it hits, and he gasps when Derek's hand wraps around his to help.

They stay there for what seems like forever, stuck in the grips of their orgasms and each other. Stiles stares at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused, and just concentrates on all of his other senses. His heart beats wildly in his ears, Derek's body is almost burning hot against his, and the stench of come and piss and sweat clogs up his nose. The three scents are intoxicating and something he doesn't want to ever stop smelling. He could die right then and there and go happily, but of course that doesn't happen. Derek finally seems to come back to himself about a minute later and picks his head up again, smiling shyly up at him with red cheeks and pink-tipped ears. The sight of his wolf looking so adorably pleased and sated is enough to make him move, his hands stroking softly through the dark strands of Derek's hair and over the rasp of his beard. "God, that was hot..." he gasps after Derek steps back and he untangles his limbs from around the man's body, his legs lowering and his feet hitting the shower floor again.

It's still slick with the last of their combined piss and come.

Derek hums his agreement, pulling Stiles into his arms again and pressing their mouths together. Now that he's not caught up in the moment, the smell of his own fluids seems to pervade the air more noticeably, a find that taps into the most animalistic parts of his mind and earns their approval.

He can taste himself on Stiles' tongue, so he sucks the slick muscle into his mouth to get more of it as his hands slide around to the teen's back to stroke soothingly up and down. The whole stall positively stinks of them, and he almost doesn't want to let Stiles go again when the boy eventually ends the kiss and steps back to gasp for air. He desperately wants to beg Stiles to skip school and stay there with him all day, doing the whole thing over and over again until they tire themselves out.

Unfortunately, he knows that can't happen. Stiles' schooling is important to both of them and he doesn't want to be the reason the teen fails. So when Stiles turns on the shower and steps beneath the spray to finally begin getting ready for the day, he stays quiet and dutifully takes his turn when the boy moves aside to begin soaping up his body.

"We'll definitely be doing that again, just so you know," Stiles announces casually after he moves on to his hair. Derek is stood behind him and he has his head tilted back to allow the alpha to work the shampoo into a thick lather. "Maybe every morning, even... You could just just lie back and go right down my throat instead of having to get up to use the toilet. That'd be pretty hot, I bet." When Derek's hands come to stop and he hears a sudden intake of breath, he knows without needing to ask that the man agrees with him wholeheartedly. He smiles, proud of himself, as he turns and pushes his wolf out of the way so that he can wash the shampoo from his hair, humming a made-up tune under his breath as he does so. His suggestion seems to have rendered Derek speechless, and he pats the man sweetly on his bearded cheek and coos at him as he makes to exit the shower and dry himself off. He hopes he's done a good enough job of cleaning himself up that the betas won't be able to tell what he and Derek spent the morning doing.

As unashamed of their kinks as he is, he still doesn't want them knowing; he'd never hear the end of it.

Once he's dry, he drops the damp towel in the laundry hamper to wash later and leaves for the bedroom to get dressed. He keeps things relatively simple—a dark green button-down and a pair of mustard-coloured chinos—and sprays himself liberally with some of Derek's cologne to cover any traces of piss or come that may have lingered after his shower. With the betas' noses, he knows he can never be too careful.

Derek joins him in the bedroom a couple of minutes later, with his hair still damp and a towel wrapped around his waist. Stiles watches as the man dresses from where he sits leisurely on the bed, leaning back on his hands and wolf whistling when the towel is dropped to the floor.

He grins and waggles his eyebrows at Derek when the man turns and looks back over his shoulder. Derek tries to look unimpressed, but Stiles still sees the corner of the wolf's mouth quirk upward before he turns back to the dresser to hide it. Like he does every time he manages to get Derek to smile, he gets a deep sense of satisfaction, especially because he knows just how hard the man's life has been. It feels good to be able to make him smile like that, if only a little bit. Unfortunately, Derek takes away the fantastic view he has of his ass and tattooed back when he steps into tight underwear and dark jeans, and Stiles pouts his disappointment when Derek slips a maroon Henley on over his head and leaves the room with a wink. "Spoilsport..." he mumbles as he makes to follow the man.

Before he leaves the room, he grabs a pair of clean socks from the top drawer and quickly slips them on—not caring that they don't match—and practically skips his way downstairs, noting with a nod that Derek has placed his bag ready for him beside the front door. In the kitchen, he finds said man sat at the island, two mugs of coffee cooling in front of him.

Stiles takes his mug and smiles at Derek gratefully as he takes his first sip.

Since he doesn't have time to make anything complicated for breakfast—their fun in the shower took less time than he thought, but he still doesn't have any to spare—he sticks to something simple: a bowl of oatmeal each with a spoonful of Nutella dumped on top. After putting Derek's bowl down next to his coffee, he takes his own stool on the opposite side of the island before tucking in. He moans as he eats his first mouthful, the Nutella turning what would otherwise be quite a bland meal into something rich and chocolatey. If it wasn't so terrible for him, he would sit and eat the stuff straight from the jar until he emptied it. "So...what are you getting up to today?" he asks after a minute, when he hears the telltale sounds of Derek scraping his spoon along the bottom of his bowl to collect the last few hazelnut-y oats. He himself is only about halfway done with his breakfast, but it's not a surprise; he's long since stopped marvelling at how fast Derek can pack away food, and he turns on his stool to watch as the man rinses out his now-empty bowl and turns it upside down on the drying rack.

"Nothing much," Derek replies, leaning back against the counter as he dries his hands with a fresh dishtowel. "I'll probably be working all day until you get home, but after that I have nothing planned. We can do whatever. If that pack doesn't disturb us, that is..."

Snorting, Stiles shoves the last spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth before rinsing and putting his bowl next to Derek's. Glancing down at his phone, he sighs when he sees that it's time for him to leave for school and pulls his mate into a tight hug. "Love you, Sourwolf. Thanks for last night...and this morning," he whispers in the man's ear. Quickly, he grabs a handful of Derek's firm ass and presses his lips to the corner of the wolf's mouth before scurrying away, ready to get the school day over with.

* * *

After pulling to a stop in his usual space, Stiles finds Isaac waiting for him, like always.

 _The moment of truth. Well...here goes nothing_ , he thinks as he exits his Camaro, praying that the curly-haired beta won't detect any scents that will give away what he and Derek got up to. "Hey, puppy!" he greets cheerily, ruffling Isaac's hair as they begin making their way inside the main building.

Isaac soaks up the attention, a definite bounce in his step as he waits for Stiles to put some books away in his locker. "You're in a good mood," he observes, his eyes narrowing suspiciously when a blush spreads across the other boy's cheeks. It goes all the way down beneath the collar of Stiles' shirt, telling him unequivocally that the human teen is definitely selfishly hiding something good from him. When Stiles begins walking again without a word in return, he smirks evilly and slings an arm around his shoulders to slow him down. The move has a second motive, too: it allows him to get a good whiff of his pack mother without having to be obvious about it, and he finds the faintest trace of something musky. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain smoking-hot alpha, would it?"

Resisting the urge to bang his head against the nearest hard surface, Stiles keeps his mouth shut and lets himself be steered toward their first period. When he enters the classroom, he shrugs Isaac's arm off and sits down between Lydia and Erica in hopes of fending off anymore unwanted questions. His plan doesn't quite work out, though, because the two girls immediately pounce on him as well.

"You got laid, didn't you?" Erica asks gleefully as soon as Stiles' ass touches the chair.

She doesn't bother to keep her voice down, so she giggles when every other head in the room turns in their direction, curious to hear more of the conversation. The audience doesn't bother her in the slightest—she wouldn't say she has an exhibitionistic streak, but it never deters her, either. It does apparently affect Stiles, though, which is exactly what stops her from trying to get everybody else to turn away again. Twirling a long lock of blonde hair around her finger, she leans forward in her seat to get a better look at Stiles' face and giggles again when she sees how determinedly the boy seems to be ignoring her. "Yeah, you got laid... Now, c'mon! Spill the details!" She pats Stiles on the shoulder to try and get his attention focused on her instead of the blackboard and pouts when it doesn't work. "Please?" she whines long and loud, drawing out the word unnecessarily until the boy slaps a hand over her mouth to silence her.

"You're insufferable!" Stiles whispers, taking his hand back and wiping it off on his chinos when Erica licks his palm defiantly. After glaring the other students into finally looking away, he leans sideways and hisses his next words in the blonde's face, his eyes narrowed. "If answering you will shut you up, then yes, I did 'get laid' as you so kindly put it. Now, that's all I'm going to say on the matter, so please will you stop trying to embarrass me and shush?!"

When Erica mimes zipping her lips, he leans back and cautiously relaxes into his seat. Thankfully, his admittance seems to satiate Erica and Isaac's appetites for gossip enough for him to get through the hour without another inappropriate remark from either of them.

He hopes it'll continue for the remainder of the day, but he's not willing to put any money down.

Sure enough, while they're waiting in the lunch line a couple of hours later, Stiles is accosted by the pair again as they spew more questions at him that he doesn't want to answer. He glowers his way to his seat at their usual table and sits down with a groan next to Allison, his forehead connecting painfully with the tabletop when he continues to be hounded.

The questions get more and more lewd as the hour wears on. They start off simple, like how it happened or if it was hot, before devolving into filth. Erica even has the nerve to ask none too quietly if Derek bent him over and knotted him good and proper or if he rode the alpha's brains out until they both came all over each other. Subtlety is lost on the girl, apparently. Nobody comes to his rescue, either; everyone else seems to get immense amusement out of his suffering, especially Danny and Jackson, though the latter's laughter is far more snide than the former's.

"I hate my life... I hate my life," Stiles mumbles to himself before beginning to eat, refusing to answer any of the questions for the whole lunch period. He's the first to leave the table when the bell rings, dumping his tray on the rack with a clatter before exiting the room and storming off to Chemistry.

The class will oddly be his saviour; Charlie always takes the seat next to him, meaning Isaac won't be able to pester him any longer.

Speaking of the girl, as he's getting his notebook out, he notices something in the bottom of his bag. A closer inspection reveals it to be Charlie's phone, which he'd completely forgotten about. The timing couldn't be more perfect, so he plans on returning the device to its owner as soon as she walks through the door. Unfortunately, that moment never comes. Charlie's seat remains empty for the duration of the class, and he frowns to himself when the hour comes to an end and she still hasn't turned up. It's not too unusual—she's been absent from school before—so he doesn't worry too much. He just feels a little bad for still having her phone because he knows he'd feel bereft without having his own always at the ready in his pocket. When Ms. Adler finally lets them all leave, he gets out Charlie's phone again and tries switching it on, thinking that perhaps he can find her home number and see if coming by the house later to drop it off would be alright. Unfortunately, it never powers on, having probably gone flat days ago.

Dropping the device back into his bag, Stiles hurries to his next class before he's late, and he just manages to slide into his seat next to Lydia before their teacher walks into the room and calls everyone to order. The redhead sends him a judgemental look when the teacher turns away for a second, but he waves her off and pretends to focus on the complicated equations currently being written up across the blackboard.

It prevents him from seeing any other pointed glances the girl throws his way.

* * *

Stiles sees no sign of Charlie for the rest of the day, so as he leaves he decides to stick to his earlier plan of dropping by her house and returning her phone then. First, though, he has some errands to run in town, and he makes his first stop at the local frame store to pick up an order.

Now that the pack is back together and acting amiably toward each other—at least when he's around—it feels nice to see the photograph he accidentally smashed be whole again. He sets it reverently on the passenger seat before turning his keys in the ignition and setting off for the grocery store. Because he didn't eat much at all during his time away, Derek's appetite has seemed even more voracious than normal, which has ended with their cupboards being completely bare, everything the betas left untouched going right into the alpha's stomach. He doesn't mind, though, not when it means the man has started to pack back on the muscle mass he lost over the past month or so.

Grabbing one of the large shopping carts, he pushes it around the supermarket and grunts under the effort it takes to continue pushing it. He loads more and more items into it and makes it heavier, leading him to wish that Derek was there to do it for him. As much as he likes being self-reliant, he doesn't mind it when the man lords his superior strength over him on their shopping trips together.

The other instances in which he doesn't mind are embarrassingly obvious to everyone.

After squeezing several boxes of chocolate Pop Tarts into his cart, he steers it toward the checkout and gets in line behind a rather rotund woman and her husband. The man holds what he guesses is a two-year-old girl in his arms, and while he waits he makes silly faces at her when she turns to stare at him over her father's shoulder. Both parents cotton on to what he's doing soon after the toddler begins laughing and clapping at his antics, but neither of them stop him. Another fives minutes later, the small family is gone and he's stacking his own purchases on the conveyer belt and bagging it all up on the other side of the register almost immediately afterward. It takes some time for the man behind the till to scan everything, but they make inane small talk to get it to go by faster. Stiles thinks that the man looks only a few years older than him, and from the look in his eyes, he gets the impression that he's recognised. It's not that unheard of because he used to be the sheriff's son, but a quick flick of his eyes down to the man's name tag doesn't ring any bells.

It's when he's driving home with all the groceries loaded into the back of his car that he sees them: Charlie and Elizabeth are walking down one of the streets in the heart of town, and they both carry a nondescript brown paper bag in their arms.

Stiles briefly considers trying to find a parking spot nearby and quickly running up to give the girl her phone, but as he edges closer in his car he sees that both of them appear embroiled in an intense conversation full of wildly gesticulating hands. Elizabeth's face looks frustrated and angry and Charlie looks tired and on the verge of tears. He decides its best if he doesn't interrupt them, so he presses his foot down with more force on the pedal and continues the drive home.

As he passes by, Charlie's head turns in his direction.

In the rearview mirror, he just catches the way her anxious expression gets worse when she sees him before she disappears from view. The look seems strange, but after some thinking he just boils it down to almost being caught getting yelled at by her mother. He definitely wouldn't have wanted any of his friends to witness him being reprimanded by his dad any of the numerous times he incurred the man's wrath growing up. He'll forget about the phone for now and try again to return it the next day if Charlie is in school again. Before he knows it, he's pulling to stop next to Derek's black car and getting out to bring the shopping into the house. The alpha comes out as soon as he opens the driver's-side door and lends him a hand, his aforementioned strength getting shown off by the fact that he's able to managed about three times as many bags as Stiles in one trip. The way the load makes Derek's biceps bulge obscenely is worth the blow to his masculinity, though.

The last thing to be brought into the house is the newly reframed pack photo, which he hangs up in its place on the living room wall as soon as he shuts the front door. He steps back to admire it and thinks that the dark brown frame goes well with the yellow paint.

Entering the kitchen, Stiles finds that Derek has already made a start at putting away the groceries, quickly filling up all of the cupboards, the fridge and the pantry once more. The only downside to his new car is that he cannot fit as much inside as he could in the Jeep, but even though he adored that old hunk of junk, he loves the Camaro more and wouldn't go back for anything. He snaps out of his thoughts when Derek bumps their hips together on his way past, and he grins at the man's playfulness and gives back as good as he gets.

It becomes like a fight to see who can make the other laugh more.

Of course, because Derek is the more stoic of the two of them, he wins easily and almost reduces Stiles to a giggling puddle on the floor. The last box of Pop Tarts put away, Derek helps the teen remain upright and steers him into the living room to sit down until he regains the use of his legs. "I'm gonna squeeze in a quick session downstairs before dinner, so I'll see you later, love," he tells the boy, running a hand softly through his hair before leaving the room to change into his workout gear.

Calmed down again, Stiles relaxes back into the sofa cushions and watches meaningless television to pass the time until he has to start cooking. He doesn't pay much attention to what actually happens on the screen, letting the dialogue fade into white noise as his eyes slip closed.

When his pocket beeps, he jumps and pulls out his phone, remembering that he still has Charlie's at the same time. Because it seems like a nice thing for him to do, he decides to charge the girl's phone before giving it back the next day and makes a quick trip upstairs to his and Derek's bedroom to retrieve his cable. After he plugs it in downstairs and leaves it on the table, he figures he might as well get a start at cooking dinner since he's already up. His earlier shopping trip means he has almost endless choices as to what he can make, so it takes some to come to a decision. It's when he's slicing up potatoes in order to roast them that he hears a buzzing coming from the living room. Stepping away from the chopping board, he goes to investigate and finds Charlie's phone has powered itself on again and a new message has popped up on the screen. In the time it takes him to assess the situation, he accidentally reads the first few words of the text and gets curious, not even realising what a breach of privacy it is until it's too late and the phone is in his hand.

By that point, though, he doesn't care anymore. It's from Elizabeth, sent half an hour ago:

' _Don't you dare think of getting cold feet now, young lady! We're close to getting what we came here for, so close to getting justice for your father, and I've already told you time and again not to get sucked in by how nice they seem. You think your new little 'friend' won't turn on you if you let slip that we're on to them? It's all an act; they're dangerous, they're murderers, and you can't trust them. You know how many people they've killed, how much grief they're responsible for. I'm going out to get the last few things we need for the ritual, and I want to see a different attitude from you by the time I get back. Be prepared to get to work when I do._ '

Stiles frowns down at the screen, hitting the home button over and over when it keeps going dark so that he can reread the strange message. He knows it's referring to him and the pack, but he can't quite connect all of the pieces together and make it make sense.

The fact that everything started happening shortly after Charlie and Elizabeth moved to town, Charlie's recent shifty behaviour, her unexplained absences from school, the fact that Elizabeth just happened to know what curse was afflicting Isaac... Without even thinking to inform Derek of where he's going, Stiles drops everything and races for the door, slamming it shut and peeling down the road in the direction of Charlie's house without giving a damn about breaking the speed limit.

He wants answers, and he's determined to get them.

Slowing down when he nears the street Charlie and Elizabeth's house is on, he cruises carefully along until it comes into view and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that the woman's car isn't in the driveway. He's glad that Elizabeth hasn't returned from her errand yet because if she truly is the one responsible for all of the pack's recent hardships, then she's incredibly dangerous. Dealing with her on his own without backup wouldn't be a smart idea. Pulling up the parking brake, he climbs out of his car and marches up to the front door with Charlie's phone still in hand, ready to confront her about the strange text. He's not gentle when he knocks, and he huffs impatiently as he waits for the door to swing inward and reveal his newest 'friend'. Once it does and Charlie is standing right in front of him, he doesn't even give her a chance to ask him what he's doing there and just sticks the phone up in her face. "What the hell is this?" he asks angrily, not bothering to keep his emotions out of his voice. They're probably too strong for that to even be an option anyway.

When Charlie's eyes widen in fear and she slams the door again, the sound of the lock sliding into place following shortly after, he knows his earlier assumptions were correct. It hurts to know that he trusted someone and let them into his life, only to have that trust thrown back in his face.

That hurt doesn't do anything to calm him down, and after a quick look up and down the street, he's glad that no one else is around to witness his next move. Recalling everything he was feeling after he witnessed Scott's misguided confrontation of Derek and adding it to his emotions now, he lets all of that rage fill his body and hopes that this time he can actually control how his powers react to it.

Pressing his palm flat to the door, he tries to channel the energy he can feel coursing through his veins down his arm and into his hand. It's a strange sensation, more intense than what he feels when he uses the fire the Nogitsune gave him, and it's difficult to wrangle it and keep it under his control. After a few more seconds of focus, he thinks he's gathered enough and with a push, he blasts the door inward off its hinges. He hears Charlie scream from inside the house, a shrill sound, as the wood splinters down the middle and flies several feet to land with a crash on the stairs.

Stepping into the house, he finds the girl cowering behind the living room sofa.

"Stiles, please..." Charlie begs, her eyes darting to the door that leads through to the kitchen. Her whole body shakes and she takes several gasping breaths to try and calm herself down again as the boy approaches and comes to a stop on the other side of the coffee table.

"There's no use in running," Stiles says coolly, not feeling a single ounce of pity for the girl in front of him. He kicks aside the coffee table and overturns it, not caring that the mug and bowl of fruit that was on its surface both end up smashing to pieces on the floor. "Now, you're going answer every single one of my questions, because good _God_ , do you have some serious explaining to do. How you answer those questions will determine the outcome of this conversation. Understood?" When Charlie doesn't respond, her eyes continuing to flick about the room as if looking for an escape route, he sighs like he's disappointed before flinging an arm out and sending the sofa she hides behind sliding along the floor. It slams into and leaves a dent in the wall. He feels no remorse for the property damage, especially not when Charlie finally attempts to flee. She makes it about three feet before Stiles holds his palm out, impeding her progress and sending her colliding roughly with the wall. She's unable to even move a finger, and tears begin forming in her eyes when he closes the remaining distance between them.

The clear fear on Charlie's face doesn't stop Stiles from holding her there; he's willing to do whatever he has to in order to protect the people he loves. "I believe I asked you a question," he says threateningly, crossing his arms over his chest and staring the girl down. He waits until she whimpers out an 'OK' before continuing. "Now...I want to know absolutely everything; who you and your mom really are, why you came here, what you want with me and the pack, why you lied to me and pretended we were friends all this time...

"Everything."

Scared for her life, Charlie knows she's stuck and that there's no point in lying. "Me and my mom really did move here from Florida, but it wasn't to get a fresh start or whatever she told you and Derek..." she begins, swallowing tightly after she tries to move and again finds that she can't.

Now that the girl has actually started spilling, Stiles flips the coffee table back into place and sits.

It seems unlikely that he'll need to use further intimidation on her. He holds Charlie's phone tightly in his right hand and digs the nails of his left into his thigh so that he has something to ground him when the girl really gets going, not wanting to interrupt her and potentially cause her to clam up again. Everything that pours from her mouth is like a fresh slap in the face.

"My dad really did go missing when I was nine. For the longest time I had no idea what happened to him, and neither did my mom," Charlie explains, staring down at her clasped hands. "Then, one day, about three months ago, she came home and told me she had news, that she found the people responsible for dad's disappearance and she had a plan to deal with them before they could hurt anyone else. We packed everything up and moved clear across the country to here. The most important part of the plan was that I get in good with the people that killed my dad, so my mom watched you guys for a couple of weeks to see who would be most likely to befriend me. Just before you and Derek left to go on vacation, she decided on you, so I changed everything about myself in order to endear myself to you. I'd never even dyed my hair before... You have to understand: for years it's just been the two of us and she'd never lead me wrong before, so I trusted everything she said and went along with it, even when I found out that the people she said killed my dad were a pack of werewolves consisting mainly of people my own age."

"C'mon, you must've thought that was strange," Stiles interjects disbelievingly when Charlie pauses to take a breath. "A group of nine-year-olds travelled from California to Florida and did away with your dad. Yup...makes perfect sense!" His voice drips with sarcasm.

Charlie looks distinctly embarrassed. "My mom told me she'd done a lot of investigating and found it was like a cult, that Derek and that man, Deaton, were also a part of it. She said there were others, too, but that they died shortly after taking my dad. But that wasn't enough—she told me that before their death, they got more people to believe in their ways, and those people were you guys."

"'Believe in their ways'? What does that even mean?" Stiles asks, shaking his head.

"I never asked... Whatever my mom said was true, was law," Charlie excuses, feeling braver and more at ease now that Stiles isn't so outwardly angry anymore. "I didn't even think about how it doesn't actually make any sense. I loved and missed my dad so much and I was so glad to have any sort of explanation about what happened to him that I just bought into it blindly. My mom warned me that you wouldn't seem bad at first, but she also told me about everything that's happened in this town over the past few years and put all the blame for it on your heads.

"It would be like killing two birds with one stone—we would get justice for my dad, while also saving everyone else from being potential victims in the future. I tried to keep in mind what my mom said about you, but I started to doubt her when I saw how fucking _nice_ you all were.

"You all seemed to love and genuinely care for one another. That's what me and my mom were fighting about when you saw us in town earlier. We had just picked up some spell ingredients when I told her I wasn't sure what we were doing was right anymore. She got angry and started yelling at me, but stopped when she saw we were drawing an audience. Now I don't know what to think. I mean, she's my mom, you know? She's the only family I have left and I love her, but then there's you guys... I haven't seen any of what she told me I would eventually, none of the evil or anything that makes me think you're the bad guys she said you were." Charlie looks down at Stiles pleadingly, begging him silently to understand and forgive, to let her go. She gives up after a few seconds when she sees not even a hint of any of that in the boy's eyes. "What we're doing just feels so fucking _wrong_ now! I saw what the curses were doing to you and Lydia and the others, even if they weren't working how they should be, and I told my mom I thought we should stop-"

Stiles interrupts Charlie before she can get any further.

"Wait, what do you mean the curses haven't been working properly?!" he demands, some of his anger returning with the confirmation that Charlie knew about what was happening to the pack all along. There was a small voice in the back of his mind that was hanging on to their friendship, hoping that while Charlie had some part in everything her mother was doing, she didn't actually know about the torment he and his pack were experiencing.

The fact that the girl sat back and did nothing while his and Derek's relationship was almost destroyed leaves him fuming.

Looking more hesitant now, Charlie averts her eyes from Stiles' and bites guiltily at her bottom lip as she waits for her courage to build. She only looks back when it does. "My mom tried explaining it to me, but I didn't really understand it—while I know a little about all of this magic stuff, it's still new to me," she excuses, gasping when Stiles' eyes begin glowing. She takes that as a clear sign to hurry up with her clarification. "Anyway, she said that because of how strong you are, you give the pack some sort of protection just by being in it. And because you're the alpha's mate, your bond with Derek makes that protection even stronger.

"The curses should've done more damage, but they only did about a third of what my mom thought they would because of you. That's what the ingredients we bought today are supposed to be for: some sort of ritual that will grant her more power, enough to render your protection useless."

"How did you mom even find out about us?" Stiles enquires after mulling over Charlie's words.

"She has a helper of sorts," Charlie answers, biting her lip again and drawing blood this time. "I don't know who they are—I've never met or even seen them—but apparently they used to be good friends. They'd heard tales of a new pack growing in Beacon Hills, one with a member who had the 'potential for greatness', as they put it. My mom never told me any of this, I guess because she didn't want me to know what her true motives for coming here were, but I overheard them talking on the phone yesterday evening. She was annoyed that her plans to take all of you out weren't working, and that's when they came up with the ritual thing. I don't know what it is, but it's supposed to involve siphoning off power from some ancient object somewhere around here, which will enable her to cast curses strong enough to get rid of everyone in the pack and leave you and your magic alone for the taking. That's another thing I've been noticing recently that made me begin to question things: how power-hungry my mom's been getting. She was never like that when I was a kid..."

Stiles doesn't like the sound of that. He's had more than enough experience with people trying to steal his magic to last him a lifetime, and he definitely doesn't want any more. "So, let me get this straight..." he retorts, pushing himself to his full height and staring up at Charlie with eyes full of judgement. "You lied and pretended to be this shy, meek girl in order to get close to me and find out anything and everything about my pack, just so your mom could kill us all and steal my magic?

"I swear, all you villains need to get some more original schemes..." He says this last part to himself.

In that moment, Charlie's phone vibrates in his hand as another text comes in, and he ignores the girl when her head comes up and she looks longingly at the device. Instead, he checks the message himself and sighs when he reads the words.

"You're in luck. I'm going to have to cut this interrogation short," he announces, letting the phone fall to the floor. "Your mom's on her way back, and I'd really rather not be here when she arrives. I probably shouldn't even be offering this, but you need to pick a side, Charlie, because I promise you now, when this all comes to a head, your mom and her little accomplice aren't getting out of it alive. They've done too much damage already for me to let them get away with it, so I'm going to kill them before they can do any more. You need to decide if you want to join them."

With that last warning, he storms out of the house.


	20. Trust

Stiles has to pull over on the side of the road to think when he's about halfway home. Whereas before he was focused solely on getting an explanation, now that he's no longer in the room with her, Charlie's betrayal begins affecting him properly. It stings beyond belief, and when he looks back on the past two months, he feels like such a fool for letting her into his life and not seeing or just plain ignoring all of the signs he knows were there from the start. The fact that he's coming down from the rush he got when he used his powers doesn't help matters, leaving him feeling lethargic and listless. He wonders briefly how much trouble Charlie will be in when Elizabeth returns to the house before remembering that he shouldn't care anymore. She's no longer a friend, and she doesn't deserve his consideration when she's given him none in the time they've known each other. He thinks it would hurt less if she and her mother had just presented their true motives right off the bat. The one upside to how it's actually happened is that now he actually has time to prepare for whatever Elizabeth's next move is.

He's been around enough power-hungry people recently to know that they'll keep trying until they're stopped. Peter is his prime example, and the fact that the man had to be killed twice, both times bloodily, doesn't make him feel very good about how this latest threat is going to play out.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Stiles brings his car back to life and continues on the journey home, mentally preparing himself to tell Derek everything he's just learned and relive it all again. It's not going to be easy, especially because he was the one to introduce her to the pack and bring her into their lives. He knows that Derek won't blame him, though, which gives him confidence. When the house comes into view, he sits behind the wheel for a minute longer before getting out and going inside.

As he thought he would, Stiles finds Derek waiting for him in the foyer, frowning.

"Where'd you go so suddenly?" Derek asks confusedly, uncrossing his arms and approaching the teen. He can sense that something is wrong, but he can't put his finger on the cause. When Stiles left, he was so caught up in his workout that he didn't actually hear the front door slam, only realising that something was up when the quiet rumble of the boy's Camaro reached his ears.

Gesturing for Derek to follow him, Stiles heads into the living room and falls down onto the sofa tiredly, gangly legs sprawled out beneath the coffee table. Derek takes his own seat more carefully, and Stiles can see that the alpha's body is prepared for bad news, with tension running through every muscle and his jaw clenched, twitching every couple of seconds. "I found out who's been messing with us lately," he starts, running a hand down his face and slumping even further back into the cushions until his ass almost hangs off of the seat. He can easily tell that the sullen tone of his voice is worrying Derek even more, but he doesn't bother to remedy it, knowing what he has to tell the man will be a blow either way. "Charlie left her phone behind a couple of days ago, and I was planning on returning it to her today at school, but she didn't show. When I went to charge it, I saw something interesting... _Very_ interesting. It's Elizabeth that's been wreaking havoc on our lives, and Charlie's known about it the whole time."

To say that Derek is surprised would be an understatement.

He knew there was something off about the girl from the first moment he saw her, but he never could determine what exactly it was about her that made him uneasy. In the end, because Stiles vouched for her, he just boiled it down to simple jealousy and tried to put it out of his mind.

It's a betrayal of trust, to say the least, but he knows that the disbelief and anger he's feeling must pale in comparison to the emotions running through Stiles' head and heart. He shuffles sideways and drags the boy fully back onto the sofa before cosying up close to his side. "Are you sure?" he asks pointlessly as he rubs a hand up and down Stiles' arm in a feeble effort to comfort him. It's a stupid question, because of course his mate would be sure. Stiles wouldn't accuse a friend of something so heinous without hard evidence to back it up.

"Yeah... She told me everything after I busted down her front door and trashed the living room," Stiles mumbles despondently. "She confessed to Elizabeth moving them over here to get to me because someone told her about the potential I had in the magic I inherited from my mom. Y'know, I'm getting tired of people trying to suck the magic from my body. Fucking assholes..."

"What else did she tell you?" Derek enquires.

Sighing, Stiles extricates himself from the alpha's hold and begins pacing restlessly back and forth in the space between the coffee table and the fireplace. When he speaks, it comes out in a rush, and Derek has difficulty catching all of the words. "There's a third person helping Elizabeth do all of this, but Charlie said she doesn't know who they are. She says she's never met them, so there's still that to deal with. Also, these curses that have been fucking us all up? They're not even what Elizabeth meant to do to us. Apparently, me being mated to you, and just me being in the pack in general, gives everyone enough magical protection that the effects of the curses were softened. I don't even want to think about what their results would've been if that was different..." He shudders. "I saw them earlier in town, right after I finished shopping for groceries, and they were carrying two paper bags with spell ingredients in them. Elizabeth is supposed to be performing some sort of ritual that'll make her strong enough to finally do what she came here to do...

That'll be fun. We should see if we can stop her before that happens, though."

Derek watches Stiles pace for a while until he hears a telltale hitch in the boy's breathing, at which point he gets up, too, and grabs hold of his shoulders to stop him from walking any more. A panic attack wouldn't be good for either of them right now, not under the current circumstances.

"Stiles, calm down!" he orders, a hint of begging in his voice. He waits until Stiles' wild eyes meet his before continuing. "We can't do anything until you get yourself under control, so come on and lie down." Derek guides his mate until he's spread out along the length of the sofa, head pillowed in his lap. A hand running through his hair seems to help Stiles rein his energy back in, which in turn slows Derek's heart rate. "Better?" he asks after about a minute has passed, resting his other hand in the centre of the boy's chest so that he can feel his heart as well as hear it.

The fluttering pulse beneath his palm is comforting.

"She said she's been having doubts..." Stiles speaks quietly after taking a series of deep breaths to completely calm himself down. He could feel the panic attack coming on but couldn't stop himself from talking and riling himself up even more, so it's a good thing Derek sensed it, too. He expands on his words when the man hums questioningly, never stopping the movement of his hand through his hair.

"When she was explaining everything, Charlie said that she was having doubts, that she was torn between believing all of the lies her mom told her or believing what she'd seen while hanging out with us. I had to leave before Elizabeth came back, but I left her with an ultimatum." He swallows tightly, wondering what Derek will think of it. "Either she comes over to our side and helps us stop her mom, or she dies, too." It's a strange thing to threaten someone with their life, one that's uncomfortably close to the tactics of their old enemies, but in this instance he knows it was a necessary evil. He hopes the extremeness of the threat will help Charlie to see just how dire the situation is and that she'll be swayed to make the right decision. Should push come to shove, he'll follow through on it if she ends up getting his mate or his friends hurt again, but he'd rather not have more blood on his hands, especially not intentionally. Landon's life was enough.

Derek mulls over Stiles' words carefully.

At first, he's shocked that his mate would do something like that, but the more he thinks it over, the more sense it makes. Stiles has always had a protective streak a mile wide, and his heart is definitely big enough that he'd do whatever it took to keep the people he loves safe, at the cost of other lives or even his own. In the end, he decides resolutely that he'll back up his mate's threat and that he'll carry it out himself to save Stiles the grief if need be.

"You did the right thing," he assures, rubbing Stiles' chest through his shirt. They lapse into silence then, neither one of them sure what else there is to say. Derek leans back into the sofa cushions and breathes deep, trying to centre himself and let go of his anxieties.

It wouldn't do anyone any good if his mind was too clogged up with them for him to actually act. Even though they now know just who they have to look out for—at least for the most part; there's still the mystery of Elizabeth's accomplice to figure out—he needs to remain vigilant in case they're attacked without warning. If he was in Elizabeth's shoes, he knows he'd be quick to make his next move if his motives were found out, striking swiftly before his enemies could prepare or attack first. He doesn't know the woman well—in fact, he'd hesitate to even call her an acquaintance—but she seemed smart in both of their short meetings. It wouldn't be good to underestimate her.

There's only one thing of which he's sure: when the time comes, he'll delight in ripping Elizabeth's head off as retribution for making him assault his mate.

Perhaps he'll even dance on her grave.

He chuckles at the thought, cutting the sound off only when he realises it has drawn Stiles' speculative gaze. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he gently lifts Stiles' head off of his lap and stands, heading into the kitchen to take care of dinner to give the boy a break. That doesn't seem to stop his mate from joining him, though, as he finds out when he turns away from the open fridge and finds him perched on the edge of the counter next to the stove, elbows leaning on his knees and a small smile on his lips. He returns it. "We should probably warn the pack," he points out as he pulls some dry spaghetti from its packet and breaks it in half, dropping it into a large saucepan with some water a second later. It begins to simmer. Next, he retrieves their chopping board and a sharp knife and begins getting to work on a couple of onions. The suggestion has its desired effect as it stops Stiles from potentially finally asking him what he was laughing about, and he glances to the side to see that the teen has his phone out now, tapping away on the screen. He types quickly.

Derek assumes that Stiles is sending off a text to everybody about his new discovery, a theory that is proven right when the boy says as much. Dumping the finely chopped onions into a large saucepan with some canned tomatoes, he turns on the heat and waits until it heats up to begin adding other ingredients. "I assume spaghetti bolognese is fine with you?" he asks over his shoulder.

"Sure," Stiles hums, locking and putting his phone down carefully on the countertop. He leans back so that his head rests against the cupboard door behind him, his hands laying awkwardly across his legs. "The pack'll be here soon. I thought we should tell them in person."

"Good idea," Derek says supportively as he checks on the spaghetti.

The thought occurs to him that he should probably be cooking more food than he is if the betas are making an appearance soon. What he has on now will only fill his and Stiles' stomachs, but he can't be bothered to put more in the saucepans. The other teenagers can just ransack the cupboards for junk food again for all he cares. Almost as if they were listening to his thoughts, looking for the perfect time to make their entrance, as soon as the last word runs through his mind, he hears the front door swing open, followed by a multitude of heavy footsteps. The betas seem to pause as one, no doubt raising their noses in the air as they get their first whiffs of the cooking food.

Before he knows it, Derek is pushed out of the way when Scott and Isaac immediately make a beeline for the spaghetti, and he smirks at them when they look back at him, confused. "Sorry," he says, not meaning it at all, "that's mine and Stiles' dinner. Get your own." With that, he shoves them off to the side, a little more rough than he ordinarily would be, in retaliation for doing the same to him a few seconds earlier. He's thankful that everyone else had the good sense to stay back.

Stiles holds a hand up and grins at Derek when the man meets him in a perfect high five.

"What's this about?" Lydia enquires impatiently while the betas follow Derek's instruction and begin clearing out the cupboards, fridge and pantry, her eyes on Stiles.

"That can wait until everyone is ready," Stiles states confidently, maintaining eye contact with Lydia until she sighs and walks away again, giving in. After years of seeing her dominate absolutely everybody in her life, it amazes him still that Lydia allows him to order her around from time to time. It doesn't happen often, but he feels a thrill every time it does, making him feel special.

About ten minutes later, everyone gathers around the large table in the dining room and takes their respective seats, all of them continuing to stare at Stiles expectantly. He almost cowers under all of the attention but determinedly holds his head high, almost feeling like a parent wanting to maintain an air of strength for their children. It's a strange idea, and when Derek enters the room with two bowls filled to almost overflowing with spaghetti bolognese, he can't help picturing the two of them married and sitting down to dinner with their own kids at the end of a long day. The image makes him panic a little, so he shakes it from his head and sighs in relief when it disappears, replaced again with the reason why he brought the pack over in the first place. _All things in time, Stiles_ , he tells himself, feeling far too young to have his own family—he hasn't even finished high school yet, after all—but knowing that he wants one eventually. He's certain that Derek would make an amazing dad, almost as much as he is that he'd end up being the disciplinarian.

When Derek starts twirling spaghetti around his fork and eating, Stiles starts talking:

"Right... I just found out something that affects all of us in a major way." If the betas had dog's ears, he's sure he would see them perk up on the tops of their heads. "Charlie's mother, Elizabeth, is the one who's been hounding us recently, and Charlie's been in on it from the get-go," he announces.

Like Stiles was expecting, every single one of them looks shocked, even Lydia, who normally prides herself on knowing absolutely everything. He goes on to repeat all he told Derek when he returned home. It's slow going because he has to keep pausing to field questions from the others as he goes, but eventually he reaches the end of his tale for a second time and the last enquiry is answered. His dinner is going cold, so he hands the conversation off to Derek so he can actually start eating it.

"What are we going to do?" Cora asks, eyes flicking nervously between her brother and Stiles.

Her voice comes out even and neutral-sounding, but her eyes give away just how much the news is really hitting her. Even though she hasn't done anything to follow up on her and Charlie's relationship—if there was even a relationship there to chase to begin with—she still feels the blow deeply, the hurt probably second only to Stiles'.

"That's what we called you all over here to discuss..." Derek replies, leaning forward and resting his elbows on either side of his empty bowl. "Since this affects all of you, too, we thought out next move should be something we all decide together. At the moment, while we know a little, we don't know enough about Elizabeth's next move to think up a counterstrategy. I was thinking about doing some recon to see if I can see or overhear anything valuable," Stiles' head pops up at this, his eyes wide with shock, "but I want every one of you to stay out of that and let me do it alone. She's strong, and I don't want to risk any of you getting caught. Until we come up with a good plan of attack, whenever you see either of them around town or in school, or wherever, I want you to walk immediately in the opposite direction. _Do not_ confront them. Stick together and don't go anywhere alone. Power in numbers and all that. If she succeeds in getting the power she needs, she'll be even more dangerous and there'll be no telling what she could do to you."

Every face in the room looks grim, listening to every word Derek says with such incredible focus that it's uncharacteristic for many of them. Stiles is glad that they're taking the warning so seriously. They finish their food quietly and clear off and spread out around the house to do their own things.

Stiles grabs hold of Derek's arm before he can leave, too.

"What's this about you spying on Elizabeth? _Alone_?" he demands after dragging the man into the study and shutting the door for a more private conversation. He shoves Derek down into a chair and keeps him there with a stern look, hands on his hips. "If you think I'm gonna let you go near her after what she did to you then you're insane. You're actually insane."

Derek's confused expression changes into understanding, softness appearing in his eyes instead of irritation at being manhandled unexpectedly. Standing slowly so as not to accidentally set Stiles off again, he walks the short distance between them until he's stood before the teen, his arms fitting themselves around the other's waist in a move so practised that it's automatic. "It'll be fine, love. I'll be careful," he assures, foreheads meeting as he bumps their noses together sweetly. Stiles sighs shakily against his lips, and he takes that as the perfect opportunity for a kiss.

Their mouths slide smoothly across one other and he feels the boy's grudging smile appear against him, a crack in the sternness the was borne from loving worry. "I promise I'll be back here before you know it, safe and sound," he whispers, stealing one last kiss before backing away.

"You'd better..." Stiles replies as Derek slips from the room.

* * *

As soon as Stiles leaves the house, Charlie feels whatever hold the boy had on her suddenly disappear. She crumples to the floor in a heap, ragged breaths falling from her lips as she tries to keep herself together. Being a victim to Stiles' power was terrifying, and she never would've guessed that he was capable of being so ruthless. Even though she genuinely feared for her life, it did help her make up her mind about what to do: she knows that everything Stiles did to her home and to her was only him trying to protect the people he loves from being hurt again, and this cements the decision in her head that she'll defect from her mother's mission. If Stiles and his pack will take it, she'll offer her help to bring her mother down, even though the woman is the last family she has left. There's such a deep sense of finality to the decision that a tear builds in her eye, like she's already begun mourning her mother even though she still lives. Speaking of Elizabeth, she wipes hastily at the moisture on her cheeks and stumbles to her feet when she hears a car door open and slam shut outside.

The sound is quickly followed by rushed footsteps, and she stands nervously in place, stock-still, as her mother comes into view in the entranceway. Her heart starts beating fast as the woman just stares seemingly impassively at what was once their front door, taking an aborted step back when her mother finally tears her eyes away and enters the living room.

"What is this?!" Elizabeth demands, outraged at the destruction.

"Umm..." Charlie stalls, her fear growing more when her mother narrows her eyes and moves closer, a hand held out almost threateningly. Her mind is blank, her mouth opening and closing repeatedly without any discernible words coming out, just sounds.

"Charlotte Lynn Alexander, I asked you a question, and you know very well that I don't like to repeat myself!" Elizabeth lectures, her hand curling around Charlie's shoulder and gripping it tightly like the talons of a bird, sharp nails digging into fragile skin. She drops the paper bag she holds carelessly to the floor when her daughter still doesn't respond, not caring when she hears one of the small jars within shatter on impact. _What's one more small mess when everything else in the room is in ruins, too?_ she thinks wryly. "Are you going to answer me, or are you just going to stand there gaping like an idiotic fish?"

The harshness of her mother's tone is what finally gets Charlie's brain working again. "It was Stiles..." she whispers, voice quavering as she winces in pain. Elizabeth's touch is rough, rougher than it's ever been, and she swallows tightly when the pressure on her shoulder increases at the mention of the boy. Thankfully she's released a second later, before any lasting damage can be done.

She rubs at the spot when her mother steps back and runs a hand down her face.

With a flick of her wrist, Elizabeth rights everything in the room, the shattered fragments of their fruit bowl and mugs mending themselves as they find their homes on the coffee table once more. Bending down, she transfers the paper bag from the floor to the coffee table, too, checking that all the ingredients she just purchased are still intact inside as she does so. Luckily, it was only that one bottle that broke, and another wave of her hand fixes that as well, the glass coming back together and trapping the invaluable powder inside, where it will stay until it's needed later that night. She sits down on the sofa and levels her eyes on Charlie again. "I take it by the mess I just came home to that he knows about us now, correct?" she asks, adjusting her long black dress over her legs so that there are no wrinkles in the expensive fabric. She sighs deeply and purses her lips when Charlie nods jerkily. "Alright...what did you do to screw this up?" The thought that their being discovered might not be her daughter's fault doesn't even enter her mind.

"I-I lost my phone a few days ago, and I guess Stiles found it," Charlie whispers. She can't make herself speak any louder. "After you left earlier and sent that text, he saw it, put the pieces together, and came here." She flinches when her mother shifts, uncrossing her legs.

"And I take it that as soon as he came over here demanding answers, you gave them to him straight away, without even trying to come up with a plausible excuse?" Elizabeth presses, her frustrations increasing when Charlie nods again and looks off to the side, through the living room window. When she speaks next, her voice is drowning in sarcasm. "Well, that's just _brilliant_! Well done!"

Standing once more, she snaps up the bag of ingredients and heads into the kitchen, gabbing Charlie by the arm as she goes and dragging the girl along with her. "We're going to have to move quickly if we want to succeed with the plan now... I want you to start preparing these while I get my spell book," she upends the bag on the countertop, "and we'll do it immediately. We have no time to waste!" With that, she pats Charlie on the shoulder and gives her a forced smile before dashing upstairs to her bedroom.

Charlie stares down at her feet.

She listens to the sounds of her mother moving as they come through the ceiling, trying to gather her nerve so she can tell the woman she's changed her mind. It's not an easy feat, but by the time she hears footsteps on the stairs again a few minutes later, she's done it. When Elizabeth reenters the room carrying a large, heavy book, she meets the woman's narrowed eyes with her head held high, projecting confidence. "I don't want to do this anymore," she starts, marvelling at how her voice actually comes out sounding strong. "I don't think that Stiles and the others are who you said they were. You've been lying to me. They're good, and what we've been doing to them isn't right, so I'm leaving! If you don't stop coming after them...I love you and I'm sorry, but I will help them stop you." Her courage slips gradually, because with every word that passes her lips, Elizabeth's expression becomes angrier and angrier, to the point where she's honestly frightened of the darkness she sees there. Running seems like a good idea, so she begins backing away toward the back door.

Before she actually gets there, though, Elizabeth is on her. She cries out in pain as a burning sensation beings spreading up her arm, originating from her mother's grip, and before she can try to pry the woman's hand off, she's thrown across the room. Her head hits the wall and she sees stars.

"You stupid little girl!" Elizabeth hisses, advancing on her daughter's prone form.

Groaning in pain, Charlie rolls herself over onto her front and tries to crawl away, but her mother is faster. A hand comes around the back of her neck and, before she knows it, she's flipped over onto her back and a hand is around her throat, choking in its tight grip. "Mom, stop!" she gasps out, clawing at her mother's arms. The deranged look in Elizabeth's eyes makes her try harder to get free. "I can't breathe. Please, mom!" She kicks out wildly and manages to land a blow right in her mother's stomach.

The pressure around her neck vanishes just as her vision starts going fuzzy around the edges, and her body shakes as she coughs harshly, touching a hand to her abused throat as she scurries out from underneath her mother's body. The skin is sore and must be red, and she blinks salt water from her eyes when her back finds the wall and impedes her escape.

She probably wouldn't have the energy to do so anymore anyway.

"How fucking _dare_ you try to abandon me now! After all the trouble I went through to keep you when your father tried to steal you away from me, this is how you repay me?" Elizabeth growls, stumbling carelessly to her feet and spreading her arms wide at her sides. She sees Charlie staring up at her, half scared and half confused, and gets a sick smile on her face as she begins spilling secrets long held from her daughter, deriving pleasure from the pain her next words inflict. "You were right; I have been lying to you, but about more than I think you suspect. You want to know what really happened to your halfwit of a father? Yes? When I started expanding my horizons, exploring all the different types of power I had denied myself for years because I was following his 'enlightened' example, he didn't approve. He tried to stop me, but I liked the rush it gave me too much... The fool got scared and tried to take you away, away from me, and I couldn't have that. He tried to fight me, but he was no match." She laughs evilly, her eyes full of cold delight as she remembers the night about which she speaks.

"You should have seen it. It was beautiful, the way the life drained from his eyes as I stopped his heart beating with nothing but a thought. Just beautiful..." She goes silent for several long seconds before the sound of quiet sobs rouses her from her remembrance.

Charlie can't believe what she's hearing. More tears leak from her eyes, running down her cheeks to drop onto and soak through the navy fabric of her shirt. As if her mother's admission has unlocked a vault in her mind, what little she recalls of the months leading up to her dad's disappearance suddenly seems more somehow. She relives them second by second as she searches for clues of the truth.

What she finds only makes her cry harder, her mother's words drowned out.

The man never seemed unhappy, at least not when she was around. When she wasn't, though, it became a different story. Occasionally, and while they were unaware of her presence, she would overhear her parents arguing. Their shouted words were always muffled by the walls so she couldn't understand a single one, but she knew it was mainly her mom that yelled, her voice high-pitched and sharp. The fights got less frequent, but as they did, the atmosphere of the house grew more tense.

When she got home from school on the night it all came to a head, her dad came to her room and told her to pack a bag, that they would be leaving within the hour.

They were to stay with her grandmother a couple of towns over, for a week or so, he said. She could sense that something important was happening, could see the apprehension in her dad's eyes, and that made her obey without question. As soon as she finished packing, the last shirt folded and laid flat in her bag and the bag zipped shut, she heard a great crash echo up from somewhere downstairs. It made her freeze in terror, not blinking or breathing, and seconds passed by as if time had stopped completely before the silence was broken by an anguished scream. This spurred her into action, and she tore her bedroom door open and flew down the stairs to find the source of the commotion. What she found made her recoil in horror. Her father was lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, his head tipped back, his mouth open and his eyes lifeless. Elizabeth was straddling his waist and breathing heavily, and before the woman noticed her new audience, Charlie heard her speak quietly to her husband's unmoving body. There wasn't an ounce of remorse in her voice.

Elizabeth moved her husband's head until their eyes met. "There we go, sweetheart. That wasn't so bad, was it?" she soothed, stroking a hand almost lovingly down his cheek. When she reached his chin, though, her touch turned rough, nails digging into stubbled skin. "Bastard. That's what you get for trying to tell me what I can and cannot do."

The last thing that flashes across Charlie's mind is her mother's eyes snapping up to hers.

"Starting to remember, are you?" Elizabeth scoffs in the present, watching the girl's face with a sneer. "Good. Then you know what happens to people when they try to cross me. Don't worry; since you're my daughter, I won't kill you outright, but I won't let you leave me either." She crouches down in front of Charlie and strokes down the side of her face just like she did with her husband's. Her smile stays in place even when Charlie turns her head to the side to escape the touch. "Hmm... I guess there's no more point in waiting, then, is there? This'll be over quick, my dear."

Before Charlie can process the words, her mother's finger is on her forehead and her world goes black.

* * *

The sun has long fallen when Derek creeps up to the side of Elizabeth's house. The back of the place faces a row of trees, so it's easy to get close without the risk of anyone seeing him. There is no noise that he can hear coming from inside, but even so, he doesn't think for a second about letting his guard down. His earlier promise to Stiles that he would return home safe makes him move more slowly than he normally would, his steps cautious as he flattens himself to the back wall of the place and edges closer to what he assumes is the kitchen window. A light is on inside, shining through the glass and illuminating the back garden with a faint glow that spreads outward a few feet before evaporating, leaving the rest still in darkness. The only things stopping the immediate area from being completely silent are the far-off sounds of other families in neighbouring houses, sitting down for a late dinner or gathering together to watch television before bed. Derek would find it all quite comforting if he wasn't there to do something so dangerous and potentially life-threatening.

Blocking out all of the impertinent noise, he tries to listen for the smallest sounds coming from within Elizabeth's house. For a while there's nothing, and he's getting close to giving up and going back home when he finally hears something: two sets of footsteps coming down stairs.

When they get closer, Derek daringly turns his head to the side and peers through the kitchen window, hoping all the while that no one will see him. Luckily, when he spots Elizabeth and Charlie standing side by side on the other side of the pane, they have their backs to him, so he's safe for the time being. They both wear strangely embroidered robes, and their words are muffled, but with some concentration he's just about able to make them out.

What he hears is confusing, but he guesses it all has to do with whatever plan they have for Elizabeth to become strong enough to recast her curses on the pack and take them all out.

"Alright...this is the last thing we need," Elizabeth says.

She holds a small jar of some mysterious herb up and hands it off to Charlie. Derek doesn't recognise it, but with what he knows about the woman now, he doesn't think it's that surprising. He has almost no experience with the dark arts, so it's obvious that he wouldn't be privy to everything that goes into it. He watches as Charlie stuffs the jar inside of a bag, the strap of which she then pulls over her head so that it rests at her hip. It looks bulky, so there's clearly a lot inside.

Something seems off about the girl, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

"Now, what we're about to do is going to be tough. This thing is ancient and is going to put up a fight, so it might take a while for us to find success," Elizabeth explains, smoothing down her jade robes. They look like they're made of a soft velvet.

Before Derek can really try to make sense of her words, there comes a loud knock on the front door. Elizabeth sends Charlie to answer it, and a few seconds later when the girl returns, she brings a third person with her. They wear a long cloak, the hood still over their head even though they're indoors now, and Derek has to fight to stop himself from scoffing. It takes until all three of the women turn and head toward the back door for him to remember that he's seen the cloak before. It's the same one that was worn by the person that attacked himself and Stiles in the preserve, and in all honesty, he's a little surprised to find that Elizabeth wasn't the culprit of that particular attack. Even so, the realisation doesn't change his mind about getting revenge on the witch because everything that's happened still traces back to her. When the back door opens a short distance away, he holds his breath and doesn't move a muscle, praying that the trio will walk right on by without seeing or hearing him. Luck is apparently on his side in that moment, because all three of them remain unaware.

Derek doesn't take his eyes off of their backs as they walk toward the tree line and disappear between the trunks. _Something ancient with a lot of power_. The words circle around and around in his head until they suddenly make sense and he knows just what Elizabeth is after:

The Nemeton.

His eyes widen, and he quickly fumbles his phone from his jeans pocket and dials Stiles' number, muttering, "C'mon, pick up," under his breath as he waits for the call to be answered. As soon as he hears his mate's voice, he tries to explain what's happening in a rush, but halfway through he hears a beep that causes him to curse loudly, too loudly. "Voicemail... _Fuck_!" he yells in frustration. There isn't time for him to try anyone else, so he starts following Elizabeth alone, his heart pounding in his ears because he knows just what a stupid decision it could turn out to be.

* * *

After they'd finished dinner, the rest of the pack were quick to leave, returning to the safety of their own homes and leaving Stiles and Derek alone. Stiles felt a little antsy then, and the feeling only intensified once Derek had left as well to go and spy on their now-unmasked enemy. He tried distracting himself with his favourite movie, but it was useless. His leg kept jiggling restlessly, and he would find himself biting painfully into his bottom lip every few minutes until he tasted blood. Now, he putters around the house aimlessly, just waiting for his mate to return. He's mad at himself for letting Derek go sleuthing on his own, and because he knows that he'll just continue beating himself up if given the chance, he sorts through absolutely everything in the house at least twice to busy himself. It's a better distraction than the movie, thankfully, one that also tires him out. He's just finished organising all of the books on the bookcase in his and Derek's bedroom for the third time, having gone back and forth repeatedly between alphabetical and by genre, when his eyes start to droop and his limbs feel heavy.

As much as he wants to stay up until Derek returns, his body won't let him.

Sluggishly and unwillingly, he picks himself up from the floor and stumbles over to the dresser to pick out some sleep clothes. His mind isn't clear enough to make any proper decision, so he just opts for what feels soft and carries it with him to the bathroom.

The bright overhead light impairs his vision when he flicks on the switch, and in his blindness he walks into the sink on his way to the toilet, the hard porcelain digging into his side. It makes him hiss through his teeth and drop what he now realises is a pair of Derek's pyjama bottoms, black and baggy, the material thick and warm in his hand when he bends to pick it back up from the cool tile of the floor. His eyes itch with tiredness as he stares at himself in the mirror, the bristles of a new toothbrush rubbing a little too roughly back and forth across his teeth and gums.

His last step before sliding into bed is to pull off his day clothes, and Derek's sleep pants are pulled easily up his gangly legs before he falls onto the mattress with a groan, his arms and legs starfishing out across the empty space. A hand reaches out, grasping for someone that's not yet there beside him, and the reminder is like a cord wrapping tight around his heart, constricting.

The last thing he thinks before succumbing to sleep is Derek's name.

* * *

Stiles knows he's not getting any true rest anytime soon when his eyes snap open a second later to reveal annoying familiar surroundings. He jackknifes upright from where he still lies in the centre of the bed and almost gives into his urge to cry when he sees just what is awaiting him.

The bedroom's walls are unnaturally shadowed and feel oppressive, claustrophobic, like they're closing in on him. This strange vision world is still a shock to his system even though he's visited it several times in recent memory, and he wonders if he'll ever get used it. The clock on the nightstand doesn't give the time. The numbers flashing back at him change every time they reappear, and sometimes they're not even numbers, but weird symbols instead that mean nothing, at least not to him. He gets the feeling that there's a lot to this place that is still unknown to him, things that will take him years of studious effort to even get close to understanding. There's probably meaning in everything, if only he could see it. Sighing, he clambers off of the bed, his body wracked with shudders brought on by both cold and fright, and hesitantly walks out into the hallway and down the stairs. Like what's happened before, as he walks, the house vanishes behind him and more appears under his feet, guiding him in the right direction, and when he tries to turn right, into the living room, he finds he can't.

The room doesn't exist in this reality, apparently.

The kitchen and the dining room also yield similar results, leaving the front door as his only option. The sky is an endless void of black when Stiles walks down the steps and onto the grass, not a star in sight, and though he wasn't really expecting to see any, it's still unnerving. The temperature seems to drop more and more with every step, and he wraps his arms around his torso in an effort to keep his body heat. Going back for a shirt or sweater isn't an option; the path he's on only goes forward.

Long stretches of empty roads are all he knows for the longest time, row upon row of lightless houses devoid of any people, without even a simple gust of wind blowing through and disturbing the various plants and flowers in the gardens. He sings a song under his breath to erase the quiet.

Eventually, the path leads him to Charlie's street.

He naively tries to keep going, past the girl's house, in the hopes that what he's meant to see isn't held within. Of course, that's just wishful thinking, and after bolstering himself up a little, he approaches the building, praying that whatever he finds inside won't be too horrifying. He doesn't think he can take any more surprises just yet. The front door is fixed, like he never destroyed it.

When he pushes it inward and steps over the threshold, holding his breath all the while, he feels relief when he doesn't immediately find anybody waiting for him on the other side. It usually takes a while for anybody to appear to him if they're going to, though, so he doesn't drop his guard. He makes a sweep of the first floor, followed by the second, and becomes confused when he doesn't find anything of note. There doesn't seem to be anything there for him to see.

At least that's what he thought. When he makes to leave the house again, he picks up on faint talking coming from the direction of the kitchen. He knows the voice belongs to Elizabeth but can't make out what she's saying, so he steps closer to try and hear her better. Standing in the doorway, he finds the woman knelt down on the floor beside Charlie, who lies on her back, seemingly unconscious. There are candles spread around the redhead's body, all of them lit, and Elizabeth draws strange patterns on the skin of her forehead as she continues to mumble. Since she doesn't seem able to see him, Stiles steps closer and attempts to catch her words, kneeling down himself on Charlie's other side. Reaching out a hand, his fingers pass right through the girl when he goes to touch her, leading him to conclude that what he's seeing must not be happening in the present or future. Each time he's seen those times before, he could interact with the other people in the vision, unlike in the past where he couldn't, like when he witnessed his mother's private conversation with Talia Hale.

There's nothing for him to do but settle in and wait.

It takes several long minutes until something else happens. Elizabeth's voice gets louder as she speaks in a language he doesn't know, and the candle flames get larger. The change is so spontaneous that he flails backward to avoid being burned even though he can't be.

"There...that should teach you not to disobey me again, sweetheart," Elizabeth whispers as she brushes the hair back from Charlie's forehead. The action is strangely maternal coming from someone who's capable of such evil. "It's time to wake up now." With a snap of her fingers, Charlie's eyes open and she sits up with her mother's help, blinking around the room dazedly. Her eyes skip over Stiles.

"Stand up," Elizabeth orders as she gets to her own feet, snapping her fingers again.

Charlie immediately obeys her mother, her eyes widening in shock and fear. She stares down at her body as if it has betrayed her. "What the hell is going on?!" she exclaims, her voice shrill. "What the fuck did you do to me?!" The last word is shouted and ends on a pained scream as Elizabeth slaps her across the face. Charlie breathes heavily, her chest heaving with every inhale as she cups her cheek, tears springing to her eyes at the sting left behind by her mother's hand.

"Do _not_ speak to me like that, young lady!" Elizabeth reprimands, her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared in anger. She glares at her daughter for a second before regaining control of her emotions, her face relaxing and her hands unclenching at her sides. "Now...I've put you under a spell, and how you behave from now on will determine whether I remove it or make it stronger. I'm letting you choose: obey me willingly and do everything that I say, regain my trust, and I'll remove it. Fight me again, and I'll take over your mind as well as your body so you have no choice but to follow my orders and I won't have to hear you whining constantly. Now, let's put you to the test, yes? If this ritual is going to succeed, we need to be free of all the other energies that gather in our clothes from other people, the negativity, the oppression... Ours need to be the only influences in the area. Go upstairs and change into the ceremonial robe I've laid out on your bed. I have one myself, and they're both purified so that the ritual should go off without a hitch."

Charlie looks at her mother with such contempt that it actually scares Stiles a little bit. He still harbours ill feelings toward the girl but the fact that Elizabeth thought this spell was necessary makes him think that the redhead decided to side with him and the pack.

So, when she stays standing exactly where she is, he finds himself wishing that she'd just do as Elizabeth says on her own, because he knows how awful it is to have someone else controlling your body. He's unable to tell her to do so, of course, so he has to watch as Elizabeth snaps her fingers a third time and forces her. Both women exit the kitchen, and he hears footsteps on the stairs.

Standing himself, he almost stumbles when his surroundings disappear for a split second.

When he rights himself, Stiles finds that he's now stood at the edge of the preserve. Nothing else is in the area, so he sighs before beginning to walk through the trees, his feet protesting the rough ground. He adds shoes to the list of things he regrets not putting on before leaving his home earlier, but grits his teeth through the discomfort and pain and trudges farther on, his next destination becoming less and less mysterious by the second. He thinks he can make a decent guess about where this next part of the vision is leading him.

* * *

Every step that Derek takes is made with unparallelled wariness.

He doesn't want to accidentally step on a twig hidden on the dark preserve floor, snapping it and alerting Elizabeth or her companions to the fact that they're being tailed. His preternatural eyesight is invaluable, and he keeps listening intently to the sounds of the trio's light footsteps as they drift back to him on the night breeze from several feet away.

Darting between the trees, he tries to stay hidden should any of them look back without warning. Intermittently, hushed words will overthrow the sound of their footsteps, and he recognises one of the voices as belonging to Elizabeth, though that's not shocking. The second is a mystery, though, failing to tell him more about it owners identity than their gender. The feminine voice feels familiar, but no name or face appears in his mind. Charlie stays strangely silent throughout the whole trek, and in the brief glances Derek gets of the girl's back as he switches between hiding places, he sees her walking stiffly, trailing behind her mother in jerky movements. Just like he feared, eventually, the three women enter a clearing he knows well and come to a stop next to a large tree stump. The air suddenly seems toxic, like the Nemeton knows what's about to happen. Given what he knows about it, Derek guesses that might actually be the case. Taking up his post behind a tree on the outskirts of the clearing, he peers around the trunk and watches as Charlie places pillar candles in a ring around the Nemeton.

The process is similar to what Deaton did during Stiles' first training session after New York.

Now that he's actually there, Derek feels stupid for following Elizabeth on his own. There's probably little he can do by himself to stop the woman from sucking the power out of the old tree stump, and his promise to Stiles stops him from trying anyway, lest he come out of the fight without his life.

Minutes later, Charlie has lit the last wick and steps back, handing off the bag she still carries to the cloaked stranger. They upend it in the middle of the Nemeton, but Derek can't see what they do next because his line of sight is blocked by their body. It seems like a surprisingly short process, though, because before he knows what's happening, they announce that they're finished and that they can move on to the next stage in the ritual. Elizabeth climbs atop the stump and sits crosslegged in the centre before drinking whatever strange concoction her companion has just made.

An unusual wind starts blowing around the clearing, in a circle, when Charlie and the stranger take up their positions on opposite sides of the Nemeton, both of them with their arms raised in a horizontal line, palms-out as if they're telling someone to stop something. Just as they begin chanting, Derek sees movement on the other side of the clearing. When he sees its cause, his heart stops.

Stiles appears between the trees, but something about him seems off.

There's a strange pale glow and translucency to the boy's body that stands out clearly against the darkness of the preserve, but luckily, because Elizabeth, Charlie and the stranger all have their eyes closed, they don't see that they have another intruder. Derek uses the cover the wind gives him to sneak around the edge of the clearing toward Stiles, his pace quick just in case it fades again before he can get there. "Stiles!" he hisses as he reaches out a hand, planning on dragging the boy behind the cover of the unusually thick tree trunk that stands a couple of feet away. No contact is made, though, and his hand passes right through Stiles' skin like he's not really there, which he guesses explains the strangeness of the teen's appearance. Stiles finally seems to snap out of his reckless staring when his name is called, and Derek meets his wide, fearful eyes with an equal amount of panic in his own. He gestures for the boy to follow him as he steps back and positions himself so that he remains facing the clearing and Stiles is facing him. He doesn't want to let Elizabeth out of his sight.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Derek demands, the idea that Stiles is putting his life in danger causing his words to come out more harshly than he intended.

"I don't know!" Stiles hisses back, just as frustrated. "I was at home, waiting for you to get back, when I got sleepy. I went to sleep, and the next thing I know, I'm here! I thought I was just having another vision, but since you can see me, I guess not..." He's surprised by it, and he wonders just how many different ways his powers will catch him off-guard before he's exhausted them all.

It's tiring, honestly.

Before Derek can respond, the wind picks up exponentially and dark clouds appear in the night sky to block out what little light the moon and stars were shining down on them, leaving the candles the only true source of illumination in the area. The unnatural darkness is incredibly unsettling and makes Stiles stand out even more, which Derek knows could fast become problematic. The last thing either of them need is to be spotted, especially because they have no real way of defending themselves.

A loud clap of thunder sounds suddenly as a streak of lightning pierces the sky, the ground starting to quake at the same time, almost knocking Derek off-balance.

"What do we do?!" Stiles cries, strangely unaffected by the shaking beneath his feet. He peers around the tree at Elizabeth and watches in horror as her head tilts back, face to the sky, and another shot of lightning comes and hits the her square between the eyes. She eerily doesn't react to it at all. "There has to be some way we can stop her..." He wonders if his powers will work in his current state and tries to bring them out, a distressed sound escaping his lips when he finds that he can't access them. As scary as their speedy growth has been, being without them now makes him feel lost, like he's missing a limb. Before he can think of another plan of attack, Derek whispers something to him that he doesn't catch before darting past and out into the clearing, a hand held up in front of his eyes to shield them from the unforgiving wind that still whips around the place. Stiles wants to call after the man, to demand that he come back, but he resists, knowing that his yelling could possibly be enough to alert Elizabeth and the others of Derek's slow advance. Thankfully, all three of them stay unaware.

Going after Elizabeth directly would be too dangerous, especially because lightning continues to rain down on her every few seconds, so Derek veers off to the side and sneaks up behind the stranger. He brings out his claws and prepares to shove his hand through their chest.

Right as he goes to strike, however, everything suddenly stops, including his movement.

The clouds clear and all the candles extinguish themselves at the same time. Derek finds himself stuck in place, his arm still outstretched, his claws poised to be buried deep in flesh. His heart beats faster in his chest to the point of becoming deafening, but the sound of it is eclipsed by cruel laughter. Looking up, he sees Elizabeth grinning at him from where she still sits on the Nemeton. He growls.

"You're too late, Derek," the woman sneers, standing and stumbling a little bit. She hops down onto the ground with Charlie's help. "I've already got all the power I need. It's a real head rush, let me tell you!" She turns her head to the side. "You may as well come out, too, Stiles. I know you're there."

When the boy does as she says, walking stiffly over to stand next to Derek, scornful eyes staring daggers, she laughs again. "My, you really are a strong one, aren't you? I've never heard of someone being able to astral project like that without years of proper training beforehand. I'm impressed. Too bad that strength won't save your pack now." By this point, the dizziness Elizabeth felt just after taking the Nemeton's power has all but disappeared, so she feels confident using it now. Without saying another word, she flicks her gaze to Derek and holds her hand up sideways, her fingers curling like she's holding a glass. As she raises her arm higher, Derek's feet leave the ground and, with a grin, she flicks her hand to her left. The action sends the alpha flying across the clearing in a large arc to collide with a tree, the sound of bones breaking cutting through the still air and echoing through the preserve. She delights in the scream Stiles lets out as he races over to check on his mate, cackling evilly when the boy glances back over his shoulder and looks at her with frightened eyes. "That was fun!"

Stiles crashes to his knees next to Derek's supine form.

Whining in distress when he's unable to reach out and actually touch the man, he settles for assessing the damage with his eyes instead. Derek is still breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly, but a cut bleeds slowly on his forehead and one of his legs is bent at an odd angle. He heard more than one bone break when he hit the tree, so he knows there's more going unseen, but in his current state, he can't even call someone else for assistance. They're both helpless.

"Well, as nice as this has been, I really should be leaving now. I've got some new powers to test out," Elizabeth speaks up a minute later, her smile still in place. She grips her companions' shoulders tight with both hands. "Don't worry, though. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon enough." With a wink, she turns and walks away.


	21. Impetus

_\- Tuesday, September 25th, 2012 -_

Now that the threat of more attacks is gone, Stiles breathes slightly easier.

As much as he doesn't want to, he knows the only way to get Derek some help is to try and wake up, to return to his body back at the house. He says a quiet prayer that his mate will be safe for the time being as he closes his eyes and concentrates, feeling the world fade away, the sounds of the preserve getting quieter and quieter until they're gone altogether. When he opens his eyes again, he finds himself lying flat on his stomach on his and Derek's bed, in their bedroom once more. Not wanting to waste any more time, he leaps to his feet and fumbles for his phone, dialling Isaac immediately after he gets it in hand.

The beta sounds groggy when he answers, understandably so because it's after midnight now, but he perks up quickly when Stiles informs him of what has just happened. He tells Isaac to alert and gather everyone else before hanging up and getting dressed, and a minute later he's racing outside again.

When he reaches the Nemeton, he finds Isaac and Scott are already there, crouched down on either side of his mate's still-unconscious form.

The cut on Derek's head has healed over now, and the way Isaac is cradling the man's broken arm tells him that the bone must have knitted itself back together in the time it took him to arrive. "Do you think you can carry him between you?" he asks, knowing he couldn't manage Derek's weight by himself with his weaker human muscles. He helps support Derek's back while the betas both swing one of his arms around their heads and lift, bringing the alpha to his useless feet. He leads the way back, using a flashlight be brought from the house to light his path so he doesn't accidentally trip on a root or something and knock himself out, too. The mood is sombre, and he can tell that Isaac and Scott have questions they want answered, but luckily for him they keep them to themselves for the time being. The house comes into view after ten long minutes of walking, and he finds Erica waiting for them at the open front door. He walks right past the blonde without a second glance and instructs Isaac and Scott to lay Derek down on the sofa while he makes a quick trip to the kitchen.

Returning with a wet rag, he gently picks Derek's head up and sits down in its place, cradling it in his lap as he starts cleaning off the blood that's dried to the man's skin and in his hair. He feels many sets of eyes on him but doesn't look up even once, not knowing what he would say. When the last of the blood is gone, he tosses the ruined rag onto the coffee table and sets in to wait until Derek reawakens.

"Stiles?" Erica pipes up eventually, tired of the quiet. "What's going on?"

Sighing, Stiles responds with, "Let's just say that Elizabeth succeeded in making herself stronger." He still doesn't take his eyes off of Derek's face. His hand moves constantly, fingers stroking through dark hair and across the smooth skin of the man's forehead.

No other words are said. Everyone can tell that Stiles isn't in the right mindset to properly explain what happened, not yet, and they all harbour their own worries for their alpha. Time ticks by slowly, and after another five minutes of awkward silence, Lydia announces that she's going to make everyone some tea and drags Jackson along to help her as she steps into the kitchen. Stiles doesn't respond anymore to anyone, not even when Lydia forces a steaming mug in his hand, so she gives up trying and retakes her own seat with a put-out sigh.

Stiles is too busy cogitating over what little he knows about his abstruse powers. He searches fervently for a way to combat their newly strengthened enemy, but has no clue where to start.

Every single idea he manages to come up with seems likely to fail.

The Nemeton was such an overwhelmingly powerful and mysterious thing that he doesn't know how they'll be able to put a stop to Elizabeth's aggrandised reign of terror now. As he sees it, they have two options: either they forego any preparations themselves and go after her right away before she has a chance to come to grips with the change, or they wait and prepare, unfortunately letting Elizabeth become more adept at using her new power. It seems like a lose-lose situation no matter how he cuts it, and the realisation is extremely disheartening. Still, he's never been one to give up even when the odds are stacked against him. His mother's death, Peter, Gerard, the Alpha Pack, the Nogitsune, Landon...if he had called it quits during any of those tough times, he never would have survived to see eighteen, and it's that thought that cements his determination to keep going now, no matter what. He'll go down fighting, even if they lose and it ends bloody. It's when he makes that decision that Derek groans in his lap and turns toward him slightly, waking up.

Hazel eyes blink up at him, and he smiles in relief as he helps Derek to sit up. He doesn't take his hands off of the man even when he's upright again. "How are you feeling?" he enquires as Derek twists his torso from side to side and winces. He suspects that broken ribs might be the problem.

"Angry," comes his wolf's succinct reply, in the form of a low growl.

"Alright, now that Derek's back in the land of the living, can I _please_ know the reason you woke me up at this ungodly hour?" Jackson asks petulantly, dodging out of the way of Erica's fist when she goes to punch him for his callousness. It becomes a pointless move when Danny hits him up the back of his head anyway. "I mean, aside from the obvious." He waves a dismissive hand in his alpha's direction.

Stiles scowls at the stubbornly nescient beta. "I've already told you why, and I'm in no mood to deal with your bullshit right now, Jackson, so shut the fuck up before I come over there and make you," he warns in a sibilant whisper, getting immense joy out of the way the other boy's eyes widen in fear as he backs away a couple of paces. He lightens up a little bit when Isaac and Scott snigger at Jackson's reprimanding and refocuses his attention on the others. "Elizabeth has what she wanted now, the power of the Nemeton, which means she'll probably try to curse us all again soon."

When everybody's faces become twisted in fear, he smiles wryly and nods. He's quick to wrangle his expression into something more positive, though, knowing that, if they have any hope at all of coming out the other end of the impending fight alive, he must remain indefatigable and sanguine.

"How are we going to stop her now?" Isaac asks timorously.

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out. We always do," Derek replies with immense conviction. He doesn't let the doubts he has about his words show on his face, wanting to mitigate the pack's concerns so that they don't become overwhelmed. The thought of losing is anathema to him, and he vows silently to himself that he'll do whatever it takes in order to bring down Elizabeth, Beacon Hills' new despot. He leans back into the sofa cushions, the pain of his ribs finally easing off enough for him to get comfortable and wait for them to heal completely. It shouldn't take too long, and he sends Stiles a small smile when the boy presses a hand to his side tentatively, still looking for reassurance that he's really alright. He sympathises and knows without a doubt that he'd be the same way if their positions were reversed. "There's no use worrying about something we can't control, so what I said earlier still stands: to stay out of her way if you can avoid her. For now, I want you to all head home and try to get some rest. We'll probably need all the sleep we can get."

Most of the pack are reluctant to leave, but they know their alpha is right. One by one, they head back to their own homes, with Stiles bidding them all farewell from the front door until it's just him and Derek left in the house. At least that's what they think until the door is pushed open again before Stiles can shut and lock it. Isaac comes back inside, picking at his nails nervously.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asks, taking his hand off of the door handle and reaching out to touch the beta's arm gently. He tilts his head to the side inquisitively as he waits for an answer.

"Do you think it would be OK if...if I stayed here tonight?" Isaac mumbles, his cheeks colouring with embarrassment. He's unable to look Stiles in the eye as he voices his request and continues to look down at his feet even after it's been given, shuffling from one to the other repeatedly.

Derek leaves the sofa at this and joins the two in the foyer.

"Of course, puppy," Stiles is quick to say after a moment of silence, realising just what the waiting is doing to his favourite beta. "It's fine if you feel you need to be close to us, especially right now, so don't be scared about asking in the future, OK? I'm happy to have you here, and I'm sure Derek feels the same. Right, Der?" He goes to dig his elbow into the alpha's side but refrains at the last second, remembering that the man's ribs have only recently healed and are sure to be tender. Instead, he bumps their shoulders together and looks at him pointedly.

"Umm, yeah," Derek agrees, not knowing what else he could add. He shrugs off Stiles' exasperated eye roll, figuring that he can fall back on the excuse of being recently knocked out to explain his idiocy.

Waving his mate off, Stiles wraps an arm around Isaac's shoulders and guides him up the stairs and into his and Danny's bedroom. "Did you want Danny to stay with you? I can call him; I'm sure he wouldn't mind at all," he enquires gently, running a calming hand through Isaac's hair when the beta takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He nods understandingly when Isaac says 'yes' and pulls out his phone, quickly navigating to Danny's number and hitting the call button. While he waits for an answer, he notices that there aren't any sheets on the bed yet because he washed them recently, so he makes a mental note to go and retrieve some as soon as he's finished speaking to the Hawaiian boy. It doesn't take long, with Danny readily agreeing to come straight back like he thought, and as he's helping Isaac make the bed he hears the sound of approaching footsteps just before the pushed-to door is opened again. Danny steps into the room a second later, and Stiles feels comfortable leaving for his own bedroom now that Isaac has his boyfriend there to keep him company.

Derek is waiting right outside in the hall, making him jump.

"They all set?" the alpha asks, following Stiles into their room and shutting the door behind them. He took care of everything downstairs while his mate was tending to the two betas' needs, switching off all the lights and locking all of the doors. That won't stop Elizabeth, but it makes him feel a little more secure anyway.

"Yup," Stiles replies, popping the 'P'. He shrugs off his shirt and tosses it to the floor, not caring where it lands, and begins unbuttoning the chinos he changed into after waking up from his earlier vision—or his astral projection, as Elizabeth called it. Although her whole pretence for being in town was proven a lie, he doesn't think her explanation for the state in which he found himself was a mendacious act. It's the best delineation he can hope for in present times, so he'll take what he can get.

He adds it to the endlessly growing list of things to research further at a later date.

As Stiles takes his turn in the bathroom, Derek stands by the bedroom door and listens as Danny and Isaac settle in down the hall. The quiet murmurs of their conversation echo through the wall, indecipherable, but that doesn't matter. It's not often they have company overnight, and he must admit that having it then puts his anxieties in a state of repose.

Finally pulling off his own clothes, he holds them up in front of himself for inspection and sighs when he sees that the Henley is basically ruined. It must have caught on a branch and torn when Elizabeth threw him into the tree, so he balls it up and tosses it in the bin with a quiet growl, annoyed because of all the shirts he owns, that one was his favourite. Cerulean blue, v-necked and made of the softest material, he laments the loss of another article of clothing somewhat dramatically, flopping down across the foot of the bed and throwing an arm over his eyes. He only realises that he's getting dirt on the sheets when Stiles points it out to him, and he then stands wearily and heads into the bathroom to take a shower and get all of the brown smears off of his skin. Luckily, the bulk of it is concentrated on his face, neck and arms because those were the only parts of his body uncovered at the time of the attack, so it doesn't take him long to get himself squeaky clean again. Towelling off, he doesn't bother putting on any underwear and just slides right into bed with a pleasured groan.

Stiles is also feeling the results of a hard day.

The new discovery he made with his enervating powers has left his mind slow and his body aching, so the comfort of the mattress and Derek's strong arms feels like a godsend. He snuggles impossibly closer to the man, who smells like cinnamon and home, and it's a combination that works wonders in calming him, just enough for his eyes to slip closed as he falls into a restless sleep.

* * *

Hours later, no one is surprised when Charlie isn't in school again.

"Elizabeth's probably keeping her home, under her thumb," Stiles theorises, his voice cold where he sits wedged in between Isaac and Lydia around the lunch table. He picks disinterestedly at his food, arranging the mashed potatoes into a perfectly rounded mound in the centre of his tray before spearing peas with his fork and dropping them on top. He makes a game out of guessing which way the little green balls will roll off. His stomach feels full even though he hasn't eaten anything since leaving his and Derek's house that morning.

"Good... I don't want to see that bitch," Jackson comments offhandedly, tapping away at a game on his phone to pass the time. When he feels something small bounce off of his forehead, he finally looks up and returns Stiles' glare. "What? Don't tell me you actually feel bad for her after what she did to us."

Shaking his head, Stiles decides to ignore the question and return to his food.

It's always been clear to him that there is an extreme disparity in the way he and Jackson feel and look at things, so he doesn't waste his time reminding the beta of what he saw in his vision the previous night. Jackson wouldn't understand. His mind wanders, and he can't help thinking of Derek, all alone at home, left without anyone's help should Elizabeth make her next move. The one plus about being stuck in school is that they're surrounded by civilians, the perfect place to avoid being attacked, but the same cannot be said for his mate. Because of this, he insisted over breakfast that Derek keep in contact with him constantly, in hourly updates via text, to combat the worries he knew he would have. The next update should come in any minute now, and he pulls out his phone and lays it on the table beside his tray so that there's no chance of him missing it. The device taunts him in its silence, with the blackness of the screen, and all sounds of conversation and utensils scraping against plastic fade away as he waits and waits and waits.

Though his attention is so focused on it, it still comes as a surprise when his phone dings loudly and the screen lights up. He drops his fork with a clatter, ruining the meticulous work he did constructing his mashed potato pile, and snaps the device up, reading each word twice over. A sigh of relief escapes his mouth when he reads that Derek is fine, that nothing out of the ordinary has happened yet.

This constant vigilance is going to ruin him, Stiles knows, but he can't see any other way with which he can deal with the looming threat of destruction.

He has more mettle than he gives himself credit for, though. Now that his worries have been assuaged, though only temporarily, he locks his phone and tunes back into the discussions happening around the table. Scott, Allison and Kira are hunched together and laughing with each other in a disgustingly cute display. Danny and Isaac are the same. Boyd is silent where he sits beside Erica, an arm resting casually across the back of the blonde's chair as she converses somewhat raucously with Cora.

Jackson and Lydia are arguing about something.

He doesn't want to eavesdrop, so he tunes them both out again and stares out of the window. From his seat, he faces the parking lot and the tree line beyond, giving him the perfect vantage point from which to see other students sneaking off the property.

People-watching is one of his favourite pastimes, and he indulges himself in it now. He can just about make out someone standing by the far corner of the building, their greying hair blowing in the wind as they hold a cigarette between their lips and attempt to light it. It takes him a second to realise who it is, but Ms. Adler's hunched posture and dress sense are unmistakable. It's not a surprise that she smokes, not when she has such a raspy voice, like she has gravel trapped between her vocal chords. He chuckles to himself when she drops her cigarette, but when she bends down to retrieve it, the smile is quickly wiped from his face. Elizabeth is revealed to be standing just behind his most hated teacher.

Ms. Adler stands at her full height again, dirtied cigarette now in hand, unaware.

Before Stiles can react, can even think of anything to do to stop it, Elizabeth moves forward and, keeping eye contact with him the entire time, snaps his teacher's neck with a flick of her wrist. He gasps in shock and holds a hand over his mouth, drawing the attention of the rest of the pack. As much of a bitch as Ms. Adler was, he didn't want her dead, especially not like this.

"Stiles? What's wrong?" Isaac asks worriedly, following his pack mom's line of sight. He sees nothing strange, so he's baffled when the human boy continues staring out of the window.

Stiles sees Elizabeth's lips move and jumps when, a second later, her voice runs through his mind and echoes around inside his head. "Why don't you join me?" it says, scarily calm and pleasant. "I've got so much I want to talk to you about, and I doubt you'd want any more of these people to meet the same fate as this woman, right? I'll be waiting." He doesn't realise he's moving until he's already dashing from the room, yells of his name following him as the pack tries to get his attention and fails. As much as he wants to go straight outside and tear Elizabeth limb from limb, he has enough sense still to know that he would be the one coming out of that fight without his life. He darts into the closest boys' bathroom and is glad to find it empty. When everyone pours into the room right after him, filling it up, he doesn't react and just stares at himself in one of the mirrors. Preempting any more questions about his sudden exit, he tells them all what he saw and heard as his knuckles become white from gripping the sink so tightly. He can hear the porcelain groan in protest.

It's only when the sink cracks and he comes away with two chunks of it in his hands that he turns to face the pack. They all look shocked as he drops the pieces to the floor with two thuds and washes the dust from his hands in the next sink over.

"I thought she wouldn't come after us here," Erica pipes up, scared.

"Me, too," Stiles responds as he dries his hands with a paper towel. "I guess since she can't get us directly right now, she's going for a different approach... She wanted-" He's cut off by a commotion out in the hall, and he cuts through everybody to open the door and stick his head out to find out what's happening. A couple of boys walk past, great smiles on their faces, and he grabs hold of one of their shirts before they can get out of reach. "What's going on?"

The boy's grin gets impossibly larger. "Oh, that bitch, Ms. Adler, was just found dead outside. It looked like she'd been murdered, so they've cancelled the rest of everyone's classes today so the cops can come and interview us all." Sick excitement drips obviously from his voice, and when his friend beckons him he shakes off Stiles' grip again and hurries to catch up.

At that moment, a teacher comes around the corner and spots Stiles.

"C'mon," she says, her eyes narrowing when she sees everybody else gathered behind the boy. "All of you need to go to the gym and wait for your turn." She accompanies the group after they all trail out, knowing their reputation and suspecting they may try to sneak off if left alone.

Once they've walked past the couple of deputies that are stationed outside the doors and are all packed tightly in the gym with the rest of the student body, squished into a tiny circle next to a wall, Stiles keeps his eyes locked on the door and listens for any more signs of Elizabeth. All he hears, though, are the murmurs of quiet conversations going on all around him. The atmosphere in the room is strange. Half of the students are shocked by this newest death and sit silently, while the others all whisper with each other, sharing theories about how Ms. Adler met her demise and tales of how badly she treated them, though a lot of them sound embellished. All of that energy combines with the smell of old sweat to make the place seem oppressive, no longer commodious and free-feeling. He slips his phone surreptitiously out of his pocket, planning on sending a message off to Derek to let him know about this newest development, but before he can type the first word, the same teacher that walked him and the others there snatches it from his hands.

He resists the urge to argue when she reprimands him, not wanting to draw attention.

"The Sheriff's Department has said that no phones are to be used. They don't want to risk any information getting out before they're ready, so the rest of you hand yours over, too, please," the teacher instructs, holding out a small cardboard box. It's soon filled, and she smiles at them all tightly before wandering off to another group of students.

"What are we going to do?" Danny whispers, his head low.

Sighing, Stiles sags against the wall and wraps his arms around his knees. "There's nothing we can do but wait, I guess," he replies calmly, the back of his head bumping against the wood panelling. "Derek should realise something's wrong when school ends and none of us show up, if this takes that long."

Derek may know already if he can feel Stiles' emotions clearly enough through their bond. Because they strengthened it again a couple of days ago, Stiles hopes that's exactly the case. He doesn't want Elizabeth to get angry at his not showing up in the preserve like she told him to and take a chance at her going after Derek as payback. It seems like just the sort of crazy thing the woman would do, so he'd feel better if his mate was around and surrounded by the protection of civilians.

He doesn't think Elizabeth is stupid enough to make a move in the presence of so many people. That's what he tells himself, at least.

Time passes incredibly slowly as student after student is led back out of the gym and into a separate room down the hall to be questioned by a deputy. They don't reappear afterward, so Stiles assumes they're sent home when the deputies are finished with them. He anxiously awaits his own turn, not knowing what he should say. Lying stands out as the obvious option, and it seems strange to him that he feels grateful for his exceptional ability to bend the truth, tempered by years of practice, even before this whole supernatural mess started. Eventually, the deputies call on students closer to the pack, and then it's their turn. Cora and Lydia are first, breaking up his little coterie, and both girls look back over their shoulders with unsure expressions before the doors shut and they're out of sight. Stiles knows they'll know to lie, too. Half an hour later, Erica and Isaac are called, leaving just him and Jackson alone in their corner. There are a few other students still left on the other side of the large room, but they're so far away that it feels to Stiles like they're not there at all.

He distracts himself by playing with the strings of his hoodie, the black wolf one Kira gifted him for his birthday, and becomes so caught up in it that he doesn't hear his name being said until a hand comes to rest on his knee. He looks up, startled, to find Jordan Parrish looking down at him, concerned. "O-oh, sorry," he stutters when his mind catches up.

Jackson scoffs disapprovingly as he saunters away, following a different deputy.

"C'mon, Stiles, it's your turn," Parrish says gently, offering the boy a hand. He leads his young friend outside and into one of the empty classrooms off of the next hall over and gestures to one of the desks in the front row once the door is shut tight. "Have a seat."

 _Luck might actually be on my side this time_ , Stiles thinks as he follows Parrish's instruction. He feels relief because, now that the deputy is aware of the supernatural goings-on in town and they are the only two people present, he can tell the truth about what's happening. Still, he waits for the man to start talking first and leans forward in his hard seat, bracing his elbows on the desk's smooth wooden surface as Parrish takes his own place leaning against the teacher's desk.

"Do you know anything about the discovery of Ms. Adler's body outside?" Parrish asks, pad and pen in hand. The way Stiles' carefully held expression of calm cracks, showing some nerves, clues him in on the answer.

He should've known.

"Yes," Stiles replies with certainty. He takes a deep breath before continuing and explaining all the new discoveries he's made since the last time he and Parrish talked. The man writes none of it down for obvious reasons and just listens attentively, his face in a state of shock that doesn't change throughout the entire tale. "So, basically, my friend's mom has been doing all of this, and she killed Ms. Adler to try and lure me outside. I would've gone, but...y'know, there was the whole 'no one is allowed to leave' thing. Plus, it was probably a risky move anyway, since I have no idea what she's capable of with her powers now-" Cutting himself off when he sees how overwhelmed Parrish seems, he sympathises with what he knows the deputy is feeling, having both felt it himself and seen it on the faces of his packmates as they were brought in to this occasionally harrowing world one by one. He twiddles his thumbs as he waits for Parrish to process everything and perks up when the man finally moves to set his notepad down.

Scratching at the back of his head, Parrish feels lost for words. "That's, uh...a lot," he mumbles lamely before pursing his lips and crossing his arms over his uniformed chest. "What are you planning on doing about it? Can I help at all? Because I do want to, y'know, any way I can." He knows that he's ill-equipped to deal with this latest threat, but he won't let that stop him. He feels an obligation to the late sheriff to protect his son.

"I'll let you know, on both accounts..." Stiles sighs, resisting the urge to slam his forehead down on the desk. All he can really do is hope for another vision, one that will tell him how he can defeat Elizabeth, but until that happens, he'll look for a way by himself.

They both stay in the classroom for a few minutes longer to avoid looking suspicious.

When Stiles is let go, he makes a promise to Parrish that he'll keep the man updated as much as he can. He's quick to grab his things—his phone is difficult to track down, but eventually he finds the teacher who confiscated it and gets it back—and exit the school, resolutely keeping his eyes averted from the crime scene as he scurries across the parking lot to his car. Before he slides in behind the wheel, a hand on his shoulder makes him leap back in shock before he senses who it is.

Derek stands a couple of feet away, clad in his signature leather jacket and looking at him with worry. "God, how many times do I have to ask you not to scare me like that?" Stiles whines, breathing heavily.

"Sorry," Derek says sincerely, rubbing a hand up and down both of Stiles' arms in an effort to calm the boy down. Once his touch has worked its magic, he heads around to the passenger-side door of the blue Camaro, slides in, and waits for his mate to do the same. Stiles starts the car a second later and pulls out of the parking space, and he instructs the teen to drive them home. "The rest of the pack are gathered there already, waiting for us. Are you OK? I felt you panicking earlier, but when I got here and tried to sneak inside to check on you, I was told that no one was allowed in or out. What happened?" He sees Stiles' hands tighten on the steering wheel and stops himself from asking any more questions, choosing wisely instead to wait for the boy to answer the ones he's presented already. His mind runs away with him as they draw closer to their home, providing him with endless horrific images that get progressively worse. Only the fact that Stiles is sitting alive and relatively well in the seat next to him prevents him from getting caught up in them all and succumbing to his own panic.

"Let's wait until we get home, 'K?" Stiles suggests tiredly, feeling guilty for Ms. Adler's death though he knows with certainty that there was nothing he could have done to stop it. People dying because of him, even horrible people and even if their deaths aren't linked to him directly, never feels good.

He's glad when Derek nods and remains silent for the rest of the drive.

Everybody else's vehicles are squished together on the front lawn when he pulls his own to a stop, and it takes some careful manoeuvring to ease himself between Jackson's Porsche and Derek's black Camaro. He manages it, though, and a minute later they're walking through the front door to find the pack waiting for them in the living room. Their usual spots on the left and in the centre of the sofa have been left open, and Stiles takes his gladly, falling into it with a sharp exhale.

Derek is quickly filled in on Elizabeth's latest act of malice. He resolves that they need to find a way to stop her, and soon, before she can harm any more innocent people. It becomes like a study session, except instead of going over material for school, the group tries to come up with any conceivable way they can overthrow their seemingly unassailable enemy.

"I'm gonna try something..." Stiles speaks up after a couple of fruitless hours have passed by. "I'll be back soon." He doesn't say anything more than that in case his plan fails.

Locking himself in the privacy of his and Derek's bedroom, he focuses and makes sure that the soundproofing is working before taking a seat in the middle of the large bed. He sits crosslegged, his hands resting on his knees as he takes repeated breaths, long and deep.

If he's apparently so strong, then what he's attempting should work. At least he hopes as much.

He's never tried to initiate a vision on his own before, so he's left drifting in a sea of confusion for a while as he tries to figure out just how to accomplish the task. There are no candles, no Nemeton beneath him to give him power, and no strange-smelling paste smeared across the skin of his face to guide his way. It's just him, alone in his for-once clear head. His breathing becomes rhythmic and automatic as he narrows his mind down to a single thought, a single desire: to find a way to defeat Elizabeth with as little bloodshed as possible. Suddenly, his world tilts and he finds himself lying on his side, reclined on something hard and smooth that's definitely not the soft bed sheets upon which he was just sitting. Cracking open one eye, he pushes himself up and looks around to find that he's in a strange room. Nothing about it looks familiar, but from the rows of bookcases that span its entire length, he can tell it's a library of sorts. Nothing is visible outside of the windows to tell him where he is, and when he scans the shelves he finds he cannot read a thing.

Every label is in a strange language, one he doesn't recognise at all, and even stranger still is the conspicuous absence of any books on the bookcases. Row after row is completely empty, and he is just beginning to wonder what answers could possibly await him there when he spots something.

A lone book lies on the middle shelf of the bookcase at the back of the room, pressed up against a wall. It's thick and hard-backed, the old cover peeling and threatening to disintegrate into dust at the slightest touch. He picks it up carefully and carries it over to a table before opening it and hovering his hands over the yellowed pages. Frowning, he finds that the text is written in the same strange language, and he guesses that it must be a lost tongue, something esoteric and long forgotten except by a select few.

With a disappointed whine, he slips back and lands heavily in one of the wooden chairs around the table. He turns the book's pages aimlessly, not really expecting anything to happen.

Because of this, he's surprised when something changes.

He comes across a double page that's written in English and devours the words like they're curly fries and he hasn't eaten in a week—the fact that he actually has experience with that is quickly brushed off. As he reads, he almost fist-pumps the air when he finds that it could be just what they need, if it works. Closing the book, he holds it against his chest and closes his eyes once more, letting the strange, eerily silent room fade away as the chair on which he still sits gets slowly softer. A second later, he hears knocking and looks around to see that he's back in his and Derek's bedroom, and said man is calling for him through the locked door, sounding worried. He shuffles over to the edge of the bed and stands, the old book still in his arms, and flicks the lock open so that he can get out. Transferring the book under one arm, he pats Derek consolingly on one bearded cheek when the door swings inward and he sees the deep frown on the alpha's face. Derek leans into his touch and huffs out a sharp breath, eyes flicking down briefly to the book before resettling on his face.

"What happened? I was trying to reach you for almost a full minute before you answered," Derek mumbles as he follows his mate back downstairs. He can smell magic, and he guesses the scent of it belongs to Stiles because it's not like what he smelled last night from Elizabeth.

"Sorry," Stiles apologises sincerely, bumping their shoulders together after they've both retaken their seats on the sofa. All of the betas watch them curiously. "I was getting this," he sets the book on the coffee table, the muscles of his arms thanking him because the substantial weight of it was starting to strain them, "and I guess I just lost track of time."

Lydia reaches for it and uses the smooth surface of the table to turn it around easily. "What is it?" she asks, becoming more interested when she finds she can't read the worn lettering on the cover.

"A book," Stiles answers cheekily.

He can't help smiling when the banshee sighs and rolls her eyes in exasperation. "No, but seriously... I tried using my magic to find a way to bring down Elizabeth, and I was led to that." Talking everyone through everything that happened, he blushes deeply when Derek compliments him on his idea and brushes off any more praise. He's still pleased about making his mate proud of him, though, but he doesn't tell anyone, feeling weird with the pack all still staring at them.

Opening the book to the double page Stiles dog-eared, Lydia reads the spell. Her eyes widen in shock and her face tightens with apprehension as she nears the end. "If you can pull this off, Stiles...this could be the answer to all our problems," she offers approvingly, impressed.

"Yeah...don't jinx me," Stiles jokes, not really joking at all.

* * *

Later, not long after everybody's parents have demanded they come home and talk to them about what happened earlier at school, Stiles reads over the spell he found again. The list of ingredients is long and incredibly complex, and the things he'll have to go through to enact the spell itself once they're all gathered is daunting and a little sickening. He makes quick trips out to the preserve and back to Deaton's clinic in order to get everything ready, planning the whole time that, when Elizabeth is gone and things have settled down again, he'll really have to make a start at growing his own herbs in his and Derek's back garden. The perfect picture forms in his mind, of a small flourishing plot right beside his vegetable patch. It will definitely save him some time in the future, and it'll also mean fewer excursions to steal from Deaton's dwindling supplies. He's sure that the man will appreciate that. Once he has everything he needs and returns home, he finds Derek waiting for him in the foyer, leather jacket and shoes on, phone in one hand.

The man says he wants to keep an eye on things, so throughout the night he'll be patrolling several times around town and checking up on each member of the pack to make sure they're still alright.

Stiles makes him a thermos of coffee before he leaves.

After Derek is gone, Stiles stands in the foyer and tries to determine where the best place to attempt the spell would be. In the end, he decides on one of the training rooms in the old catacombs just off the basement gym and descends the stairs to start setting everything up. He has to make several trips, and his thighs ache and small beads of sweat have formed on his forehead by the time he's carried it all down there because of the sheer amount of stairs he's had to take repeatedly.

Ordinarily, he would've enlisted his mate's help, but Derek is not around to provide him with any. At least his absence is for a good cause, Stiles muses. And honestly, because of what this spell entails, it will probably be better for both of them if Derek isn't around to see him attempt it.

He finds it a little seedy, an opinion Lydia shared with him before she left.

In spite of this and the fact that he's scared out of his mind, he shuts the door leading down to the basement and heads down the long, dimly lit hallway to the training rooms one last time, a sizeable kitchen knife in his trembling hand. He drops the knife with everything else, unfolds a large towel, and spreads it out across the floor. Things are probably going to get messy, and he doesn't want to give himself any more to clean up than he can avoid. His next step is to light a series of candles and place them in a ring around where he'll be sitting, an action that is fast becoming second nature, followed by lighting them and taking his place. Pulling all of the spell's other components closer, he says a small prayer before taking a deep breath and holding it as, by its legs, he picks up the fawn he tracked down in the preserve earlier. He was thankfully able to put it to sleep with magic instead of having to capture it by hand. Derek didn't appear to notice it laid conspicuously across the backseat of his car when he returned home from Deaton's clinic, saving him from an awkward explanation.

If it were awake, he doesn't think he would have the nerve to do what he has to do next, but because it's deep in sleep, completely unaware, he proceeds, silently cursing the spell for requiring the sacrifice of an innocent the whole time. Taking the knife, he whispers a quiet, "Sorry," to the fawn before clenching his eyes shut and stabbing it right through the neck.

Blood spurts everywhere, its little heart still pumping, and he hastily positions the gaping wound over the metal ceremonial bowl he borrowed from Deaton until it fills disgustingly with the red, viscous fluid.

Some spills over, so he lays the fawn back down, next to him on the towel, and strokes his bloodied hands—both literally and figuratively—across the fur of its side until its lungs stop filling with air. Tears form in his eyes when it takes its last breath. His reputation as the most sagacious member of the pack might take a hit if the spell doesn't work, and he hopes that what he's just done isn't deleterious to his soul and that Derek will understand if he should ever find out.

 _Magic is fucked up_ , he thinks as he blinks away the wetness in his eyes.

After wiping away the lone tear that ran down his cheek, he swallows tightly and moves on to the next part of the spell. Using a mortar and pestle, he crushes up every other ingredient he brought down with him until they mix together into a powder finer than the sand found in an hourglass.

This is tipped and mixed into the blood, making it thicker like syrup. Dipping his index finger in, he draws a line across each cheek and a third down the centre of his forehead before wiping his hand off on the towel and preparing himself for what he knows will be the most difficult part of the spell, and considering what he's already had to do, that's saying something. Picking the bowl up, he doesn't give himself a chance to think it over any longer as he brings the rim to his lips and begins drinking it down, his body immediately rebelling and trying to throw it all back up again. He perseveres. The blood feels hot in his stomach, like it's burning him from the inside out as penance for the slaughter of its old owner, but he doesn't worry about it too much because the book warned him of this feeling beforehand. When the last drop is forced down his throat, he drops the bowl with a clang and hunches over, coughing and retching and breathing heavily as he waits for it to settle. "This better be fucking worth it..." he groans before returning to sit with his back straight.

Legs crossed and hands palms-up on his knees, Stiles tries to ignore the foul taste of copper that stays on his tongue as he closes his eyes and recites from memory the incantation which mercifully serves as the spell's final step. It's longwinded, and he stumbles a couple of times before getting it right.

As soon as the last word leaves his lips, all of the candles blow out and the single bulb above his head flickers and dies, leaving him in total darkness.

That's when it happens.

Pain shoots through his veins, spreading out from his stomach and burning until it reaches the tips of his fingers and toes. He tips over onto his side, gritting his teeth through it all to stop himself from making any loud noises. Time is immaterial. He couldn't keep track of how long he lies there, shaking and whimpering, if he tried. It's worse than submerging himself in ice water, worse still than what he felt when Landon attempted to rip his fire powers from his body.

As abruptly as it started, it stops. He stays where he is, hardly daring to believe that it's really over, but eventually, he cracks open his eyes and stands cautiously, afraid that another jolt of pain will render him useless once more. Nothing happens, though, so he leaves everything where it is, walks back through to the gym, and studies himself in one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors to see if anything has physically changed.

Disappointment doesn't grip him when he sees nothing out of the ordinary, barring the fawn's blood still on his face, because he thought the spell would probably be all internal anyway.

Concentrating, he gathers every little piece of magical power in his being and visualises it compressing down into a tiny ball in his mind. He begins to feel weaker as it gets smaller, and he takes that as a sign that the spell has worked. Sighing in relief, he lets the power loose again to reinvigorate himself and goes to make a start at cleaning up the spell ingredients he left out in the training room. The dead fawn is the most difficult thing to dispose of, and he apologises to it again as it wraps it up in the towel and carries it outside. He takes it a little way out into the preserve and buries it in its own small grave, patting the soil down flat so that the disturbed earth is as inconspicuous as possible before returning to the house to shower all the dried blood from his skin. A surprise waits for him there, though, one that impedes his plan, one that's unwanted and stops him in his tracks when he crosses the tree line and enters the back garden. Elizabeth. She stands in front of the back door, facing the house with her hands clasped behind her back.

He contemplates backtracking and calling Derek when he's far enough away that she won't hear him, but before he can even move one step, the woman turns around and smiles at him knowingly. _So much for that_ , he thinks nervously, fearing the worst about why she's there.

"My, my, haven't you been busy!" Elizabeth coos.

Her eyes flick across his body briefly, and Stiles guesses she's eying the blood still on his skin and clothes. He hopes she doesn't know what it's from. When she starts moving toward him, he calls forth his fire until his palms and eyes glow as he stumbles backward, but his focus is lost and the glow fades again in his panic when his heel catches on a tree root and he almost topples over.

"Oh, come now, Stiles! There's no need to be so scared of me," Elizabeth chuckles, choosing to stay where she is now, a few feet from the house instead of right next to it. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead." When Stiles gathers himself and stares at her disbelievingly, she chuckles again before making her face as innocent-looking as possible. "Where's your dear Derek? Off lolloping about, doing alpha-wolfy things? He's very _cute_ , I must say. Quite the catch."

Stiles remains silent, not rising to the fatuous bait Elizabeth is so obviously dangling in front of his face. "If you're not here to kill me, then why _are_ you here?" he dares to ask, keeping his stance strong.

"Why didn't you come see me outside of the school earlier, Stiles? I was waiting there for you for hours," Elizabeth counters, her voice creepily sweet like a schoolgirl's. "It was quite disappointing, I must say. I mean, a boy like you surely could have gotten around the police and found a way to meet me. Oh well... I suppose it doesn't matter too much now. I see you've been busy doing something messy, and I sense that something about you has changed because of it." She holds out a hand that makes Stiles jump and moves it leisurely through the air, her eyes slipping closed as she gets a feel for just what exactly is different about the boy. They open again when she finds what she's looking for. "Ah, I see what you've done now. Very clever. Very clever, indeed... I've known other, more experienced people who failed where you've succeeded, so I must congratulate you on pulling it off. Too bad I can't actually let you use it, though." Without waiting for Stiles to react, she sends the boy sprawling backward with a flick of her wrist and approaches his dizzied form quickly.

Kneeling down next to Stiles, Elizabeth rests her hand on his forehead in an almost motherly touch. "I was planning on doing this myself later, but I think it will be much more fun for your friends if we do things this way, don't you think?" she asks rhetorically as she pulls all of Stiles' magic to the surface and injects some of her own into it, contaminating its blinding whiteness with black.

As soon as she finishes, she hears hurried footsteps approaching. "Time for me to leave. I'm sure you'll figure out what to do," she whispers. She stands and runs for the trees just as Stiles begins coming around again, smiling to herself the whole way.

"Stiles!" Derek yells, skidding to a stop next to his mate.

Scott, Danny and Isaac watch from a couple of feet away as Derek picks up Stiles' groaning form and carries him into the house, covering their noses when the stench of blood and fresh dirt reaches them. None of them dare to speak, remaining silent as they tail the alpha into the living room and take up different positions. Scott stands by the window, keeping watch, Danny is by the kitchen doorway, and Isaac takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table, ready to help if Derek asks him to.

Groaning again, Stiles pushes himself up from where he lies on the sofa and holds a hand to his head as he waits for the spots in his vision to clear. "Ugh, fuck that bitch..." he mumbles.

"Are you OK?" Isaac asks, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. The scent of blood is sickening, and his stomach turns unpleasantly when he gets another whiff of it. It doesn't belong to the boy himself, so he wonders what Stiles could possibly have done to get himself covered in the stuff and guesses that he won't like the answer. "You smell awful..."

"Yeah, thanks," Stiles sighs as he stands. He waves away Derek's hands when they try to push him back down on the sofa and leaves the room, heading for the stairs to finally take that shower he was planning before Elizabeth interrupted him. Derek follows him, he knows, but when the wolf tries to accompany him in the bathroom, he pushes him back with a hand on his firm chest and shuts the door before the man can actually get through, ignoring his protests. "You stay out there, Sourwolf! I'll be out in a minute, and we can talk then." He wants to examine himself in private to find out what Elizabeth has done to him. Her words outside sounded muffled because his mind was still foggy from slamming it into the ground, but he thinks he got the gist of them. It's worrying, but as he strips out of his clothes and steps into the shower stall and still finds that nothing seems out of place, he lets himself breathe again. The water that swirls down the drain is an ugly brown for a while until all the blood and dirt on his skin is scrubbed off.

He still has the faint taste of fawn's blood on his tongue, so he brushes his teeth vigorously.

Something strange is definitely happening to him, that much he can tell. What it is, though...that eludes him. It's pulsing beneath his skin, a nagging sensation that makes him feel strangely tainted, similar to what he felt for weeks after the Nogitsune was expelled from his body.

After stepping into a pair of loose sweatpants, he tries again to gather all of his power into a ball, but it's harder this time. His magic doesn't cooperate. It fights him every step of the way, and at the last second, just before he's able to mould the last spark of it into place, it flies out of his body and shatters the mirror above the sink, making him leap back with a startled yell. Derek knocks loudly on the door, but he can't find it in himself to answer. Everything feels wrong.

So very wrong.

The next thing he knows, the door is open and Derek is gripping him tightly by the shoulders, shaking him gently and asking if he's alright. He doesn't know how to articulate everything he's feeling in that moment, so he just pushes past the alpha and races downstairs and outside. Somehow, he's managed to keep the rest of his magic held tightly in its ball, but it's getting harder.

Being inside the house when he finally loses control would _not_ be a good idea, he knows, so even though he can hear all four wolves calling after him in their own states of panic, he doesn't stop running until he gets as far away from his home as he can. The coldness of the night air doesn't affect him, but he doesn't give himself time to wonder why. "Stay back!" he shouts when he sees Derek and Isaac approaching him cautiously out of the corner of his eye. They both move slowly like they're approaching a frightened animal, and Stiles guesses that is half true. "I mean it, guys! I don't want to hurt you!" Now that the shock of his magic rebelling against him has worn off, he can look more closely at it to see just what is going on. It's a strange thing, almost being able to see it before his eyes like its a tangible thing, but he's grateful for it now because, after a few seconds of watching it spin in place, swirling inside its little ball, he sees what the problem is. There is a small dark spot in the white which is getting bigger, and he knows that whatever happens when it reaches its full size won't be good.

Derek senses that Stiles is serious in his warning, so as much as it kills him to do so, he stops himself and Isaac from moving any closer to the human boy.

Somehow, Stiles can tell the exact moment when the blackness of Elizabeth's magic wins, becoming larger than and subjugating the light of his own until it has no choice but to obey its whims. Before he loses control completely, he crouches down on the ground and yells, "Get back!" as he covers his head with his arms. He doesn't have time to make sure everyone has gotten out of range before he's forced to let go, not that he even knows what the range for something like this is.

The force of it is devastating.

It's a shockwave, expanding rapidly outward in a substantial radius and bringing down everything it touches. Tree roots are ripped violently from the earth as they are bowled over, shaking the ground as their heavy trunks come down on it as one. Stiles stays where he is, breathing hard.

Derek lifts his head from where he has it buried in his arms. At Stiles' last warning, he'd thrown himself backward and ended up flat on his stomach, praying that Isaac had the good sense to do the same. Neither Danny nor Scott came this far out, so they're probably safe. He gets to his feet now and looks over the devastation with horror, finding that he was thankfully out of the path of any falling trees.

He doesn't see Isaac in the immediate area, so he assumes optimistically that the beta was able to save himself from being crushed as well. He's usually light enough on his feet.

The sight of the trees reminds him of the time when, a few months ago, Stiles had made him watch a couple of episodes of _Supernatural_ , in one of which the character of Dean Winchester dug his way out of his own grave and found the trees surrounding it knocked over, arranged like petals on a flower. He usually thinks of himself as an equable person, but this really gets to him, especially when his eyes land on his mate's shaking body, still crouched down low to the ground. The scent of magic is heavy in the air, but where Stiles' magic usually smells quite pleasant—fresh, like a mixture of grass, honey and pine—this time, there's a distinct vein of something malodorous, like half-rotten eggs and cooking meat. "Stiles...?" he asks uncertainly as he gets closer, guessing that the worst is over and it's now safe to do so. Stiles doesn't react to him at all until he reaches out a hand and touches his shoulder, at which point the boy gasps as if shocked and flails away. The smell of salt joins the other smells permeating the air, emanating from the tears in Stiles' eyes as the teen looks anywhere but up at him.

What he should do, he doesn't know.

"Don't touch me..." Stiles chokes out, sniffling and crawling away another couple of feet when Derek takes another step toward him. "I mean it! I'm not safe to be around right now... Whatever she did to me...I don't have control." The darkness is still there, threatening to cause more havoc any second.

Ignoring the first half of Stiles' words, Derek edges ever closer until he drops to his knees right next to the boy. He doesn't know how to handle the situation. Ordinarily, he'd just draw his mate right into his arms and console him until the crying has stopped completely, but given the second half of Stiles' warning, Derek is more cautious. Still, the sight of more tears leaking from the teen's eyes pulls at something deep in his chest, and he just as to try anyway.

He reaches out and takes one of Stiles' hands in his own, starting small. _So far, so good_ , he thinks with relief. Feeling more confident, he attempts to pull Stiles closer, and that's when things go wrong. Heat spreads suddenly across his palm, and he recoils when Stiles' hand glows with fire, burning him. Hissing through his teeth, he waits for the pain to fade before looking back up.

"I told you..." Stiles says hoarsely. "I'm not safe."


	22. Darkness

Stiles tries to keep himself as calm as possible. It's a difficult task. Though his magic doesn't seem to hunger for destruction anymore, he knows that the worst isn't over. Elizabeth's words circle round and round in his head on repeat, tormenting him, terrifying him, making him question everything about his place in the pack. Whatever she did to him is meant to affect everyone, he's sure, and though he hates the woman with a passion, he has to admit that getting him to do her dirty work like this is infuriatingly smart. The tears have stopped coming, his eyes tapped out, and it's with shaky legs that he gets to his feet and begins walking home, heedless of the fact that Derek is no longer trying to follow him. On his way, he passes Isaac, and, further out, Scott and Danny, and all three betas eye him warily, like they're afraid he'll snap and try to hurt them at any given moment. It's a depressingly familiar feeling, and truthfully, he can't blame them. Even he isn't so sure he could stop himself if the darkness Elizabeth has tainted him with decides it wants to go another round. So he walks alone without comment, his body aching and tired.

All he wants to do is fall into bed and sleep for a year straight, maybe more. The house is unsettlingly quiet and dark when he reaches it and, to get away from the suffocating feeling, he plans on giving in to his body's demands for rest, walking slowly up the stairs and into his and Derek's bedroom. The bed looks so comfortable and inviting, so he falls atop it without bothering to pull back the sheets and buries his face in his pillow.

Unconsciousness is mercifully quick to whisk him away from reality.

Meanwhile, back in the preserve, Derek finally moves from his spot on the ground and turns in the direction in which his mate had walked off. Though he's scared of Stiles' current unpredictability, he doesn't want to abandon him in his time of need, so he jogs, almost runs really, back home.

He finds Scott, Danny and Isaac lingering outside of the back door, all three of them looking uncertain about actually going inside. He shoulders past them and does just that without hesitation, using his senses to guide him to his mate's current location. The sight of Stiles lying face-down on their bed, out cold and frowning even in slumber, pulls at his heartstrings, and he's powerless to resist crawling onto the mattress next to the boy and wrapping him up in his arms in a futile effort to keep him safe and fool himself into believing that everything is A-OK. There's no burning now, thankfully, Stiles powers apparently dormant in his sleep.

The door opens couple of minutes later and the three betas enter the room, each of them still looking unsure but pushing through the feeling. They take places on the mattress without saying a word, Isaac lying on Stiles' other side with Danny pressed up right behind him, and Scott lying down along the foot of the bed. They're still very much unnerved by what happened out in the preserve, but they decided after some discussion downstairs that they would be there for Stiles in any way they could.

Derek feels a little better with some of his pack there, and his eyes slip closed after sending up a prayer to whomever may be listening, begging them to help him keep Stiles and the rest of his pack safe.

* * *

_\- Wednesday, September 26th, 2012 -_

Stiles startles awake the next morning, unsure of where he is. He sits up in bed and looks around with wide eyes, the sheets he doesn't remember getting under pooling down around his waist with the movement. The other side of the mattress is cold, Derek nowhere to be found, and the sun is just barely beginning to shine through the closed red curtains, casting a warm and homey glow around the room that is such a contrast to how frazzled his nerves still feel. The clock tells him that it's gone time for him to get up for school, meaning that Derek hasn't tried to wake him. He doesn't know what to make of that, whether it's an act of kindness or fear. Neither would surprise him. Turning, he swings his legs around until his feet touch the carpeted floor and stands, stretching and groaning as every muscle of his body protests. Waking up sore is fast becoming an annoyingly common occurrence, it seems, one he prays stops happening soon. Looking inside of himself, he's disheartened to find that the darkness is still there, right next to the remaining light of his magic.

It was naive of him to hope even for a second that it would be gone after one night.

Going to school is obviously not an option until the issue is resolved. In fact, being around anybody at all seems like a good way to inadvertently get them hurt, or worse killed, so he walks over to the bedroom door and flicks the lock into place, effectively cutting himself off from the rest of the world.

While he's there, he presses his ear right up against the wood and listens to see if he can hear anyone else in the house. Faint murmurings drift up to him from what he assumes is the living room, more than one voice, and he's easily able to pick them out as Derek's and Lydia's because they're both being quite loud. It sounds like they're arguing with each other, but the subject of said argument is lost on him because all of their words just blend together into one long noise. Even so, it's not hard to guess that it's about him.

Like they know he's awake now, his phone chirps from where it lays on his nightstand, and he walks over to look down at the lit-up screen and cautiously reads the most recent text. It's from Lydia—' _I know what you're planning, and I'm telling you right now that it's not going to work. So get your ass down here before I let Derek go up there and kick the door in for you._ '

Huffing out an indignant breath, he decides to acquiesce for the time being. Maybe if he explains his train of thought in person, they'll understand why his being sequestered is for the best.

After taking a random shirt from the dresser and putting it on, Stiles begrudgingly unlocks the door again and walks out into the hallway, noting that the talking downstairs stops as he approaches the stairs. When he gets downstairs and into the living room, he's shocked to find that everybody is there, not just Lydia and Derek. "What's going on? Why are you all here?" he asks, reluctantly letting Derek guide him further into the room and shove him down onto the sofa, right next to Isaac. When everyone continues to stare at him with open concern, ten pairs of eyes boring into his skull—Jackson is the only one who doesn't seem to care, choosing instead to stare longingly out of the window like he wishes he was anywhere else, doing anything else—he shifts uncomfortably in his seat and swallows tightly. It feels almost like an intervention, and the thought makes him chuckle nervously, the sound ending in an awkward cough when no one seems to share his amusement. "Seriously, guys, this is super unnecessary. I was fine upstairs, so could just get on with whatever this is so that I can go back up there, please?"

"Nope," Erica replies without a pause, popping the 'P' in between chewing some gum.

"I'm getting a coffee before we start..." Lydia comments as she gets off of Jackson's lap and smooths her dress down to rid the expensive fabric of all its wrinkles. She can easily tell that Stiles is going to be uncooperative at first, and she needs a large dose of caffeine if she's going to survive that part of their upcoming conversation. "Anybody else want one?" Following several tired nods, she heads into the kitchen and switches on the pot before gathering several mugs and organising them neatly on a tray with the sugar bowl. She taps her manicured nails impatiently on the countertop as she waits for the pot to beep.

Back in the living room, the wait for Lydia's return verges on unbearable. No one feels at ease, least of all Stiles, and after a minute he slumps back in his seat defeatedly, the fight he had when he left his bedroom disappearing before he's even had a chance to use it.

He's disappointed with himself, honestly. The only good thing that comes from waiting is that the pack seem to tire of watching him, like their suspicions of an escape attempt are gone, which, he supposes, is true. The fact that Derek hasn't tried to touch him since forcing him into his seat is affecting him more than he cares to admit, but he can't find it in himself to blame the man. He'd be just the same.

Lydia comes back into the living room a couple of minutes later, tray in hand with five steaming mugs of coffee balanced atop it, which she sets on the table. She takes hers before sitting down once more.

"Right...Stiles," she begins, cupping her hands around her drink to warm them, "let's just rip the Bandaid off, huh? Hiding yourself away from us is a stupid thing to do, one I would've thought was beneath you. Really, I'm a little disappointed." Normally, she wouldn't bother saying any of this out loud even though she means every word, but because of how bullheaded Stiles is being, she knows she has to be blunt to get through to him and for him to see reason. He won't listen otherwise, because, after all, he is still a member of the lesser sex. "I know whatever Elizabeth has done to you must be scary—trust me, I do; I've seen the results of last night's little outburst with my own eyes, which under other circumstances would've been very impressive, just so you know—but locking yourself away won't be good for anybody. Think about it—there are two options here: Number one, you hide away and leave us all to be picked off without you, or number two, you stick around, we deal with the problems you're experiencing and stop them, and then we stop Elizabeth together, as a pack.

"I think the second option is the best one, don't you?"

Shaking his head, Stiles sits forward again and tries to formulate his thoughts in a way that the others will understand. With how muddled his brain feels, it's not easy. "But...whatever she did to me, to my magic, it's still there, and it's supposed to affect you.

"That's what she said when she did it, that this way would be 'more fun' for her, and since the whole purpose of her stealing the Nemeton's power was so that she could recast her curses on all of us, isn't it obvious that that's exactly what she means for me to do now?" He gets a little worked up as he talks, his desperation for Lydia and the others to come around to his way of thinking bleeding through, and as a result, the tenuous control he's managed to keep over his magic since waking up slips a little.

A jet of flame shoots forth from his left hand, hitting the carpet and setting a small patch of it ablaze. Derek jumps away from the fire like he's the one being burned, his aversion to it still firmly held, and he stays back with open fear on his face until Boyd appears with a fire extinguisher in his hands and takes care of it. A ring of black is left behind, another carpet that'll need replacing.

Stiles feels awful, and he presses a hand to his eyes to avoid seeing the pack's faces. He knows that they are all probably looking at him, frightened, no matter what lies Lydia is spouting.

"See?" he huffs, sticking both of his hands between his thighs now in hopes of avoiding any more accidents. "How is it a good idea for me to be around you all when the smallest thing can set me off? Answer: it's not, so you should just let me go back upstairs and you should all go to school like normal so you're far away from here..." At the end of his last sentence, Derek edges back toward the sofa and retakes his seat tentatively, the sofa sagging under the weight of his muscled body, and Stiles refrains from looking over at the man because he knows that if he does, he'll give in and beg him to stay, and while the thought of being completely by himself again is utterly terrifying, his being alone is for the good of everybody. The darkness in his magic pulses wildly as if in disapproval of this plan, only furthering his resolve, so before anyone can try to refute his words, he gets up and tries to walk from the room and back upstairs, to the relative safety of his and Derek's empty bedroom. He doesn't make it more than three steps, though, before a large, gentle hand linking with his own stops him.

"That's not going to happen, Stiles..." Derek says quietly, his heart rate finally calming down again.

Everyone else nods, Erica the hardest, her blonde curls bouncing. "Besides, the school's closed for the rest of week because of what Elizabeth did to Ms. Adler, so we have nowhere else to be but here," she explains with a smirk on her cherry red lips. "You'll just have to get over yourself and deal with it."

Derek's touch does things to Stiles' magic that he doesn't like. The darkness shifts again, this time in desire, and attempts to creep down along his arm from its new home in his chest, reaching for the man who continues to hold on to him. He's unable to shake Derek off, and he feels too helpless, too tired to do anything as a small piece of the darkness breaks off from its host and seeps into the soft skin of his mate's palm, infecting him, too. Derek doesn't seem to notice that anything is amiss.

Stiles knows that he can't react the way he wants. That would just be asking for another fire to be set, and he can't do that to Derek, can't put him through watching as fire destroys his home again, for a third time. It's too late now to stop the darkness getting to Derek, so he sighs and relents. "Fine," he whispers, his eyes closing, "but none of you should touch me."

Derek finally lets him go at this, so he leaves for the kitchen to get himself some breakfast.

"Well...that went smoother than I was expecting," Lydia chirps, pleased with what she perceives as her victory, even though the others helped, too, mostly just by being present.

* * *

Hours pass by, miraculously without incident. Everyone wisely heeds Stiles' warning and refrains from coming into physical contact with him, skirting around him every time they happen to be in the same room. Derek is the only exception, and Stiles basically sticks to his side the entire time, waiting for any signs that the darkness he accidentally fed to the man is beginning to work its magic, so to speak. He doesn't want to let Derek out of his sight for a second, not even to allow him to use the toilet, which leads to one of their rare fights because the wolf inevitably has to do more than urinate eventually. If Stiles had his way, he wouldn't let that stop him—it's not like seeing Derek take a shit would change anything at all, he thinks; in his mind, they've already more than reached the level of intimacy and comfort in their relationship that would be required for something like that—but he's forced to relent when the man slams the door in his face before he can enter the bathroom after him. He feels a little angry at first, but when his magic flares up again he's quick to tamp the emotion down and just waits outside until Derek finishes.

Derek doesn't know what to make of Stiles' sudden clinginess. Sure, the boy has always been a very affectionate and tactile person, some would say overly so, but he's never minded before. That's not to say he minds now, but the change is definitely a cause for concern in his eyes.

He doesn't ask the reason, though.

In the end, when things finally start to happen, Stiles choosing to act as Derek's shadow doesn't do anything to stop it because the man isn't the first one affected by his new darkness. Scott is the first one to feel anything strange, a lack of control when it comes to keeping his eyes their natural colour. They flash intermittently, regardless of the fact that he doesn't want them to, and it's a lucky thing that school was cancelled, otherwise someone unaware of the supernatural world would definitely see.

There's nothing he can do to stop it, and it just gets worse as time goes on. Before Stiles and the others can even try to get to the bottom of it, other things start to happen that steal their attention.

Isaac starts freaking out at the smallest thing. Lydia drops a knife on the kitchen floor while she's trying to cut a bagel in half, and the clattering sound causes him to practically leap into the air like a startled cat, his fangs and claws bared and real panic in his eyes. He becomes overwhelmingly paranoid, more so than he ever remembers being.

Even when he was still human and living with his dad, fearing constantly that he'd slip up and someone would see his bruises, revealing his shameful secret to the whole school, it was never this bad. No one can touch him without him wanting to scream and claw at them to try and get away, not even Danny, and he ends up shutting himself in the hall closet just to get away from everyone, wanting no eyes on him while he still has enough of his wits about him to feel embarrassment. His grip on his mind doesn't last long, though, and he begins hearing voices in his head, one voice in particular that makes goosebumps appear on his arms and every hair on his body stand up on end. He's paralysed with fear, not even able to open his mouth and make a noise of distress or a call for help, as his dad appears in front of him, his form ghostlike, translucent. Within the confines of the closet, the man's presence feels even more oppressive, suffocating, and Isaac cowers back against the wall as he gets closer, only mere inches remaining between them. His dad's face holds such contempt, but he can't look away. Their eyes are locked.

He has a second to regret shutting himself away somewhere small, somewhere so reminiscent of the old fridge in the basement, trapped inside of which he spent so much of his teenage life, before his dad grins and reaches out to get a hand on him.

After that, he doesn't remember anything.

Erica has another seizure right in the middle of the kitchen. Boyd is there to get her through it, following the example Stiles set the last time it happened. She comes out the other side of it apparently OK, but she's left feeling weak, unimaginably so. Boyd walks her into the living room and helps her into a seat on the sofa, where she waits for her werewolf healing to kick in and make her feel better, but it never happens. Instead, it just seems to get worse and worse.

Her head continues to pound, all of her muscles ache, and when she goes to growl in frustration, the sound doesn't come. She can't make it, and she begins to panic when her eyes don't flash and no claws or fangs come from her nails and teeth. She's human again, as weak and powerless and incapacitated by her epilepsy as she used to be before Derek gave her the bite.

Boyd tries to comfort her, but his words get stuck in his throat. He presses a hand to his neck and coughs to see if he can clear it, but it doesn't help. He's unable to speak at all, silenced.

Surprisingly, he's the first one to come to a conclusion about what must be happening, not Stiles or Lydia. What Elizabeth has done to Stiles' magic is beginning to affect the entire pack in different ways, more viciously than before. He doesn't allow himself to panic and just keeps on stroking a hand through Erica's long hair to soothe her and himself as he thinks about his own predicament. Before, when he was friendless and lonely, he used to feel like no one listened to him, not even his parents, especially not after the disappearance of his sister, the only person in his life who really paid him any attention.

Because he felt like he had no voice then, now he literally doesn't.

In the dining room, Scott's condition is worsening at an alarming rate. He's stuck in his beta form now and reacts violently whenever someone comes near him, even Allison and Kira. A low, constant growl comes from his chest, and while he still has enough control of his mind to understand words, he hears Stiles trying to placate him, suggesting that he go downstairs, into one of the training rooms, until they figure out a way to stop what's happening to him. It's a struggle, but he manages to get himself to walk there, one foot after the other, even though all his body wants to do is turn right around and maim the nearest warm body, to render flesh from bone and soak up their screams of agony. Derek has just locked the last shackle around his ankle when his rationality goes completely, leaving nothing but a wild animal behind. He snaps his teeth and pulls valiantly against the restraints, trying to get to Derek and sink his claws deep into the man's chest, to his pumping heart. The metal of the shackles has wolfsbane embedded inside of it, though, preventing escape.

"This is crazy!" Stiles exclaims when he and Derek reenter the gym and the alpha shuts the door to the catacombs behind them. "Everyone's going crazy! I knew this would happen, but did any of you listen? _No_! Of course you didn't... _Fuck_!" He keeps his palms pressed together so that any fire that escapes from his heightened emotions goes out immediately.

"It probably would've happened anyway, Stiles, so calm down and let's go see if anyone else has been affected yet, OK?" Derek suggests sagely, guiding the boy back up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Things have devolved even further in their absence.

Danny is still attempting to get Isaac out of the hall closet, but the curly-haired beta has stopped talking back, the only sounds coming through now being quiet whimpers. Allison stands in the kitchen, her hands clutching the side of the island, white-knuckled. Her body is wracked with small tremors as tears leak steadily from her eyes, which are white and sightless, just like they were in the first vision Stiles had over a month before. No one else seems equipped to help her, so he steps up.

"Ali?" he calls carefully, reaching out a hand to touch the girl's shoulder when her head snaps around in his direction. She jumps when he makes contact, but she leans into the touch afterward. "Let's get you sat down, OK? You can keep Erica and Boyd company until we sort this out."

In the living room, they find the two betas curled up together on the sofa, reclined across its entire length. The blonde is sleeping, somehow oblivious to all the commotion still happening around her, and the dark-skinned boy holds her loosely in his arms. Stiles helps Allison to walk around the coffee table and sit in one of the armchairs on the other side. She clutches the armrests tightly now instead of the kitchen island, and the tears don't look like they'll be stopping anytime soon. "Do you know where everyone else is?" he asks quietly, crouching down in front of her and resting a hand on her knee. He sighs in disappointment when she shakes her head and formulates a plan in his head before standing once more, hoping that it'll work. The first step is to find Kira. Scott is out of the question, but he figures that if the two girls are together, they'll be able to help each other cope with the blindness and whatever is afflicting the young Kitsune. He asks Derek to try to listen for her, and after waiting a second, he follows the man's instructions and heads out into the back garden.

Kira is holding something small and made of rubber.

Its form is so misshapen that Stiles can't tell what it used to be. He doesn't have to ask how it came to be in that state, though, because, in the next second, a large flash of lightning shoots from her hands and gets absorbed into the rubber. "Ah..." he breathes in realisation, guessing that because Kira is still so new to her Kitsune powers, she must have feared losing control of them.

He muses that control seems to be a major theme in most of their fears.

Unfortunately for Allison, leaving Kira there, away from all of the electronics in the house, feels like the best course of action, but he doesn't want to leave her by herself. Turning to Derek, he asks the man to stay with her for a minute while he searches for the last few members of the pack.

A quick circuit of the ground floor reveals that no one else is there, so Stiles goes upstairs to the second and sticks his head in every room in the hall. He finds Cora sat alone on her bed, looking bored and probably hiding because she doesn't want to deal with the madness going on downstairs. Stiles sympathises. He leaves her to it and carries on and finds Lydia and Jackson together in their room. Lydia is scratching at her arms, her manicured nails leaving great red welts in their wake, and Jackson is standing in front of the vanity mirror, examining his reflection with a frown.

"Alright, what's wrong with you two?" Stiles asks, pushing the door closed. Lydia doesn't acknowledge the question, but Jackson turns away from the mirror to glare at him fiercely.

"I don't know what's happening with her—something to do with her banshee powers going haywire or something, probably. As for _me_ ," Jackson says harshly as he returns to studying his reflection, "I look fucking ugly! Whatever shit you've brought into this house is fucking up my good looks, so fix it fast or I'll kill you!" His tone makes it clear that he's not kidding.

Shuddering involuntarily, Stiles ignores Jackson's threat and edges around the agitated beta to approach Lydia, who stands by the open window, gazing out of it distractedly while her nails continue mutilating the pale skin of her arms. He takes hold of her hands and keeps them still so that she can't so any more damage to herself and grows more worried for her when she still doesn't react. Her forehead is wrinkled in a deep frown, her elegant eyebrows drawn together in the middle, and her mouth is set in a thin line that quivers every couple of seconds like she's trying to keep something inside. Stiles can't try to understand what she's going through with his magic like he's tempted to, lest he set the whole house on fire. He spares a brief thought that maybe his volatile fire powers are part of the curse affecting Derek—the man does still fear it deeply, after all, understandably so—but it's quickly pushed from his mind when Lydia suddenly begins fighting his grip, trying desperately to get her hands free. He doesn't let her because he knows she'll just try to hurt herself again.

"Lydia!" he exclaims, getting desperate when she still doesn't seem to hear him.

Inside of her head, Lydia feels trapped. She doesn't know what's going on around her or even where she is. She's too distracted by the unfamiliar voices that are shouting at her, steadily getting louder and louder until she can't pick out the words and it turns into one long, deafening sound that blocks out everything else. There are screams thrown in there, too, and burning wood, that much she can still tell, screams that raise all the hairs on her arms and make her feel unparallelled terror.

It started out as nothing she hadn't experienced before, just the occasional whisper, but it quickly got worse after Jackson left her side to investigate a strange itching on his face.

"Jackson, can you stop looking at yourself in the mirror like a conceited douche and get here and help me, please?!" Stiles calls when Lydia's constant struggling becomes too much for him to handle alone. His tone brooks no argument, so Jackson doesn't give one and hurries to take over.

Stiles sighs and shakes out his arms, giving his muscles a break. He sighs. "Right...you keep her from hurting herself any more, and I'll go see if I can stop this..." he says dejectedly as he runs a hand through his hair. He doubts he'll be able to actually figure anything out, but he doesn't want to leave Jackson without any hope. Even _he_ doesn't deserve that cruelty.

Shutting the door behind himself, Stiles leans against it for a second and thinks.

He can still hear panicked sounds echoing from all around the house, accented by some banging and growling that he thinks is Scott trying to get free from his temporary prison down in one of the training rooms. He feels so overwhelmed, like he's adrift in an ocean without anything to tell him where on the map he is. After allowing himself this moment of self-pity, he shrugs the feeling off determinedly and goes back downstairs to check again on everyone else. Danny isn't in the hallway anymore, trying to get Isaac out of the closet. Instead, Stiles finds the Hawaiian boy crouched down in a corner of the living room, his knees tucked up close to his chest and his arms held protectively over his head. He shakes and whimpers quietly every couple of seconds. Stiles doesn't know what to do to help the other boy, or even what's wrong in the first place, so he continues on and goes to check on Derek and Kira in the back garden. Kira doesn't seem to have made any improvements, but it doesn't look like she's gotten worse at all either, so Stiles counts that as a win.

Before either he or Derek can open their mouths to talk to each other, they're startled by a piercing scream that comes through from one of the second storey windows. They both turn around in shock, frozen in place as they wait for any further noises. They get them.

More screams echo around the area, and Derek has to cover his ears because they're so loud. He sees Stiles race back inside the house, probably to find out what is causing Lydia to make them, and he makes to follow. The screams are usually auguries of death, so he fears the worst as he takes the stairs two at a time and shoulders open Lydia and Jackson's door. The beta has the redhead pinned to the floor as she tries to get free, continuous screams pouring from her wide-open mouth.

"What the hell...?" Stiles whispers, his heart rate picking up in panic.

He's about to gather all of the pack together as much as he can to try and keep them safe, but in the next second, he feels something tear through him that makes him double over in pain.

Lydia stops screaming.

Sucking in a harsh breath, Derek also feels it, some wound deep in his chest that's fresh and raw and bleeding. He searches fervently through all the bonds he has to his betas thread by thread, looking for the one that he thinks is now severed. Jackson, Stiles and Lydia are obviously all fine—'fine' isn't really the right word, but he can't think of a better one in that moment.

When he finds it, his breathing stops altogether as sorrow submerges him completely, and after a few seconds spent waiting for the punchline, hoping desperately and foolishly that this is all some big joke, he turns and walks across the hall to Cora's room. The door is closed, and it creaks ominously as he pushes it open and walks inside, tears springing to his eyes when he finds his sister's body on the bed, unmoving. "God, no..." he chokes, holding a hand over his mouth as the tears begin to fall. He can sense that Stiles is behind him, also struck still with grief, but he can't take his eyes off of Cora's lifeless form. He steps jerkily toward the bed and kneels next to her on the mattress, reaching out a hand to touch her forehead but stopping right before he actually touches skin. Disbelief and sadness war within him when he finally gathers the courage to close that last inch of air, and he frowns when he finds that she's already cold even though it must have only been a minute since her death. He can't believe his last remaining family member is dead, his last blood relative.

* * *

All at once, throughout the house, everybody's afflictions stop, or at least ease off a bit.

The voices invading Lydia's mind get quieter, not disappearing entirely but fading enough so that she can actually think her own thoughts. She calms down and makes Jackson release her before standing and brushing the dust from her clothes. Out in the back garden, Kira regains tentative control of her powers, though they still wait just beneath the surface, ready to come out again at the slightest heightened emotion. She drops the malformed piece of rubber to the grass and reenters the house.

Isaac hears nothing but silence in the hall closet, and when he lifts his head he finds his dad is gone, nowhere to be found. He sighs in relief, examining his body for the wounds he felt being inflicted and finding that they were all part of the hallucination.

Danny is much the same, and they fall into each others arms for comfort. No one in the pack but Isaac knows about Danny's secret, about what happened with his uncle years ago.

Scott, still locked up down in the training room in the basement catacombs, feels his wolf retreat back into his mind, giving him control once more. There's nothing he can do to escape his bonds, though, so he calls for help and sighs in relief when Kira comes down to set him free. The others are still under their specific curses: Erica is still human and feels weak; Boyd is silent; Jackson can't look at himself in any reflective surface without seeing a grotesque version of himself looking back; and Allison is still blind, though the pain in her eyes is gone

All of them can feel it, even the humans, the new hole in their chests.

It's like it was when Derek killed Peter all those months before, only worse because they actually liked and cared about Cora. All of the betas can hear Derek weeping quietly upstairs, the gasping breaths and pleas for his sister to come back accented by the rabbit-fast racing of Stiles' heartbeat. No one feels brave enough to go upstairs and actually lay their eyes on their packmate's body, to interrupt Derek in such a private and heartbreaking moment. Scott and Kira take up places sitting on the armrests of Allison's chair, holding her hands in their own to give her any shred of support they can. Jackson sneaks past Cora's open bedroom door and down the stairs, right past the others in the living room and on into the kitchen, not wanting to deal with any of what he's feeling. Lydia remains upstairs, trying to keep her head even though the feeling of death and despair is drowning her, and she pulls Stiles back out of Cora's room and pulls the door shut softly, knowing that Derek will be too distracted to overhear the conclusions she's come to.

The walls keep flashing back and forth between normal and charred black, and she thinks she knows exactly why all of this is happening or at least that she has an idea. She tries explaining it to Stiles in between getting distracted by her changing surroundings.

"It's your position as the alpha's mate," she says shakily, dragging Stiles into one of the bathrooms so that she can make a start at cleaning up the damage she's done to her arms. The small cuts sting.

"What do you mean?" Stiles asks, closing the toilet seat and sitting down atop it.

Lydia hisses as she dabs antiseptic onto the welts her long nails left behind. "I know you tried to keep yourself from us this morning, thinking that it would save us from being affected by whatever Elizabeth was planning, but I know for sure now that that wouldn't have worked. These curses...their potency depends on what object their caster uses, whether it was valuable or meaningful to the victim. The more sentimental the object, the more the curse will do. As the alpha's mate, you have a bond to all of us and, in a sense, you belong to all of us. You're precious to us, so the curses still worked."

Mulling over Lydia's words, Stiles quickly joins her in thinking that this is the case. It's difficult to process because his chest aches, not just because of his severed bond to Cora but because of his mating bond to Derek. He feels everything the alpha feels, though slightly muted, all of his grief and loss and overwhelming pain. It makes it hard to concentrate.

What Lydia is saying resonates with something deep down inside that he's hidden carefully, left over from when he was possessed by the Nogitsune: his fear of the pack getting hurt again because of him. That must be the fear that the curse latched on to for him this time.

 _She's dead_ , he thinks darkly. _Elizabeth is dead_.

"I also have a theory on why Derek hasn't been affected so far, at least not directly," Lydia continues, taking a long fabric dressing strip and cutting it to the right length before sticking it on her arm. "This could very well be wrong, so don't hold me to it: I noticed before that, after I assume you and Derek had sex a couple of days ago, your mating bite was reopened and your bond renewed. This probably protected Derek to some degree, but the curse still had work to do. Since it couldn't go straight after and change anything about him, it found one of his fears that involved someone else, his sister, his last blood relative, and ran a mile with it. I read up more extensively on this curse after the whole baldness thing, and I haven't heard or read of it doing something like that before, actually outright killing someone. It's probably because of the mix of yours and Elizabeth's magic. You're strong by birth, and now, because she has the Nemeton's power, Elizabeth is probably just as strong, if not stronger. That combination must be allowing the curse to do things it never has before." She turns off the tap after securing the last dressing strip in place.

Now that she's all cleaned up, Lydia washes and dries her hands before turning to face Stiles while still holding the towel. "You should go tell Derek that there might still be hope for Cora."

"There is?" Stiles asks hopefully.

"Yes. While I'm not one-hundred percent sure—the books weren't really all that clear—I think that when Elizabeth dies, all of the curses she's cast should die with her," Lydia explains, biting her lip as she drapes the towel across the radiator. She pats Stiles on the shoulder before leaving the room, muttering under her breath. "That means that these fucking voices in my head can shut up, too..."

Because Lydia hardly ever leads him wrong, Stiles decides to trust what the girl has told him without question. He stands and walks back across the hall to Cora's bedroom and enters slowly. Derek is still on the bed where Stiles left him, only now he cradles his sister's head in his lap.

"Der?" Stiles calls, easing on to the other side of the mattress and reaching out to touch his mate's wet cheek. Derek's vacant eyes close at the contact, and he takes a shuddering breath before opening them again and looking over at Stiles instead. "I know you're hurting right now—believe me, I do—but I need you to pull yourself together for me. There might still be a way to get Cora back." He repeats all of what Lydia told him in the bathroom, and determination appears in Derek's eyes by the end.

"I'm gonna kill her," Derek seethes. "I'm gonna _rip her head right off_!"

Leaving Cora where she is on the bed is difficult, but eventually he manages to get himself to slide out from under her and walk out of the room on Stiles' heels. He finds the rest of the pack gathered downstairs, looking tired and defeated but otherwise OK. With Boyd's help, Erica, now awake, shifts over on the sofa to make room for him and Stiles to take their seats, and her legs come to lay across their laps after they're situated. "I trust all of you heard Stiles and Lydia's theory?" Derek asks after clearing his throat. He nods and carries on leading the discussion when everybody else in the room hums their assent. "Well...we really need to brainstorm a way to defeat Elizabeth sooner rather than later. I don't want this to be another case of us waiting around to be attacked. We need to bring the fight to her. Hopefully, she won't be expecting that and we can catch her off-guard. So, does anybody have any suggestions?" Silence reigns for several seconds as they all rack their brains until Danny speaks up from where's he's squished next to Isaac in one of the armchairs.

"Why don't we just get a shotgun or something from Allison's dad and blow her head off? I bet you she won't be expecting _that_ ," he suggests, looking around at everybody's faces and feeling proud of himself when the idea isn't immediately dismissed.

Stiles contemplates this plan with an open mind. "If worse comes to worst, I guess we can make that our Plan B," he accepts, nodding. He rests a hand on Derek's thigh when another wave of sadness washes through him from their mating bond. He hopes the contact will ameliorate some of what the man is feeling so that he can concentrate better on their current brainstorming.

It works. Derek grips Stiles' hand in his own and keeps them there on his leg.

"Clearly not all of us can go," Stiles points out, glancing sideways at Erica and Allison. "I don't mean this to sound offencive, but you two would just be liabilities that would distract the rest of us." He himself probably won't be much use either, what with his powers still raging just beneath the surface of his control, but at the very least he'll be able to move about freely without tripping over and breaking his own neck or something. Wisely, he chooses not to voice that part out loud, lest someone refute him and bring up his clumsiness.

"Are we doing this today?" Scott asks, raising the hand that's not still clutching Allison's. "Because isn't it dangerous to go after Elizabeth when her curses could still come on full force again at any moment?"

"Yeah, why did they ease off? Don't get me wrong; I'm very happy they did because, _damn_ , was that awful, but it seems strange, doesn't it?" Danny expands, leaning a little closer to Isaac in an effort to stop any more memories of his uncle from assaulting his mind. He never wants to go back to that place ever again, back to feeling weak and helpless and dirty.

It took him years of therapy to start getting over it.

Stiles shakes his head. "I have no idea..." he mumbles thoughtfully, frowning. Now that he focuses on it more closely, he's able to tell that the darkness tainting his magic is expanding, getting a little bigger with each passing minute. He doesn't inform the others of this, not wanting to cause them any worry before he can figure out whether it means anything or not. If he had to guess, off the top of his head he would say that the curses had a quota of sorts for pain, Cora's death fulfilled said quota, and now that it has what it wants, it's beginning to move on to the next stage. The thought of what that stage could be terrifies him, but he keeps that emotion hidden away as best he can, especially from Derek. His mate is dealing with enough. He wishes that he hadn't returned the book Elizabeth lent to him when he was seeking help to deal with Isaac's invisibility, because that's probably the place from which she got the idea for the curses in the first place. The counter-spell was in there, too, he remembers, but he can't recall even one ingredient. He feels foolish now for not writing them down.

Looking around the room, Derek counts how many people he thinks will be alright to face off against Elizabeth: Danny, Isaac, Scott, Kira, Stiles, Jackson, Lydia, Boyd, and himself.

"Alright," Kira says as she stands and reluctantly lets go of Allison's hand, "I'm gonna go see Mr. Argent and get those guns... Anyone wanna come with?" She swings her coat around her shoulders and weaves her arms into the sleeves before zipping it up and putting her phone in one of the pockets for safekeeping. She's glad when Lydia volunteers, and a minute later, after Derek tells them again to be careful, they leave the house, get into the redhead's car and speed off.

While they wait for the girls to return, all of the betas except Erica head down into the basement to get in some last minute training, which also serves as a warmup that they hope will help them come out of the impending battle with their lives. The odds aren't good, but they have to try.

Better to go after Elizabeth first, hard and fast, than be caught unaware again.

Soon enough, Kira and Lydia return with Chris Argent and a bag of heavy-duty firearms and ammo. The ex-hunter and his daughter have a tender moment before he heads down into one the training rooms for target practice, in which he promises her that he'll do everything he can to her her eyesight back. After kissing Allison once on her forehead, he follows the others downstairs.

For their parts, Stiles and Derek have taken another of the training rooms exclusively for themselves. Derek feels his adrenaline pumping already as he channels all of the emotions he feels about Cora and turns them into anger, which he knows will aid him when he's fighting Elizabeth. He doesn't use what fleeting time they have left to make any preparations himself, choosing instead to assist Stiles as the boy tries to get a handle on his magic again. It's not a very successful venture, but he spouts off endless encouragements anyway when he sees that his mate is losing his determination.

"Do you think we should call Parrish?" Stiles asks breathlessly when they take a break.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Stiles," Derek replies, shaking his head. He hands the boy a bottle of cool water and watches as it quickly disappears down his pale, slender throat. Leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his broad chest, he feels a hint of pride when Stiles continues trying to wrangle his powers in without his having to tell him to keep going. "I know he said that he would do whatever he could to help us if we asked, but I just don't feel comfortable involving him in all of this. It's too dangerous, especially for someone like him, who has absolutely no experience with the supernatural world. He'd just end up getting himself killed, and that would be another life lost because of us, more blood on our hands." Speaking of blood, he sniffs the air curiously when he gets a whiff of old copper. Following the trail, he stops in the middle of the room and stares down at the floor, at the faint ring of discolouration he can see on the concrete. The blood isn't from a human, that much he can tell, but he worries about where it came from regardless.

He notices that Stiles has paused in his efforts and tears his eyes away from the floor to peer up at the guilty-looking teen with a raised eyebrow. "Something you want to tell me?" he asks.

"Umm...no?" Stiles replies, shuffling from foot to foot. He gets increasingly uncomfortable when Derek just keeps staring at him expectantly. "Ugh, fine! It was that spell I found yesterday that I showed Lydia, the one that was supposed to help us stop Elizabeth. I'm not gonna go into the details because...gross, but let's just say that because of what she did to my powers afterward, it may as well have not worked.

"So, just leave it alone, OK?"

Derek holds his palms up placatingly and lets the subject drop. He plans to get his hands on that book and read up on what Stiles did after all of this is over, if they survive. It gives him more incentive to do just that. "You gonna be OK down here by yourself for a bit?" Derek enquires, already walking over to the door that leads back out into the dimly lit hallway. "I want to check on how everyone else is coming along." When Stiles waves him off, he goes out into the hall and over to the room in which Chris is still showing Lydia and Kira how to properly use a variety of guns. Their progress is loud.

On his own now, Stiles turns back to one of the bare walls and realises something. The room he's in now is the same one where he first learned to control his fire powers with Derek and Lydia. The scorch mark from where he hit the paper target is just barely visible.

It feels like things are coming full circle now, and after shaking out his hands in an effort to relax them, he focuses his mind back on the magic inside of his chest, observing the darkness's progress. He's dismayed to find that the light is fading, being absorbed into the dark, making it bigger. The reason why isn't clear, but when he latches on to what little magic he has left that's untainted, it still reacts violently.

Fire appears unexpectedly in his palm, so he makes a fist to put it out.

It's risky, but if there's no other solution, he can gamble on his powers and hope that they cooperate enough for him to use them against Elizabeth. Decision made, he leaves the room as well and goes to find where Derek has gotten to. He passes room after room down in the catacombs, his curiosity getting the better of him and making him poke his head inside each one to look at how everyone else is doing, following in Derek's footsteps, no doubt. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when he sees Lydia and Kira handling what look like twelve-gauge shotguns with surprising ease—Chris is standing behind them with a pleased smile on his lips—and he quickly leaves the room again before either of them can fire off another shell. A couple of rooms over, the betas are sparring with each other, their claws and fangs out as they bounce off of the walls gracefully. Isaac is the fastest, his body sometimes nothing but a blur as he keeps sneaking up and grabbing Jackson around the waist from behind before the pugnacious beta can do anything to stop him. Jackson's outraged expression is hilarious.

Derek is found in the kitchen, gulping down a glass of water with a half-eaten sandwich in his other hand. Once the alpha has finished with it, Stiles takes the empty glass and refills it for himself.

"You OK?" Derek asks when he notices his mate keeps fiddling with the hem of his flannel overshirt. He steps closer until they brush up against each other, their fingers interlocking of their own accord. Stiles' grip would be bruising if he wasn't a werewolf, and that gives him his answer.

"Just worried, y'know?" Stiles replies quietly.

Humming in understanding, Derek rubs his thumb repeatedly across the back of Stiles' hand, hoping that the action will be soothing. Stiles' body sags a little bit, losing some of its tension. He definitely gets why the boy is so nervous. Once they've prepared as much as they can, they have no real idea of what to expect when they show up on Elizabeth's doorstep. He feels good about making the first move this time, though, and his mind veers off into dangerous territory before he can stop it, wondering whether Sheriff Stilinski could have been saved if they hadn't waited for Landon to come to them. The thought is swiftly shaken away.

"I'm sure we'll be fine," he states confidently, releasing Stiles' hand. He wraps his arm around the boy's shoulders, pulls him closer into a tight embrace and breathes him in to reassure himself.

* * *

Two hours later, when it's late afternoon and the sky is beginning to turn from blue to orange, everybody who is going to take on Elizabeth gathers in the kitchen. Chris has just returned from taking Erica and Allison over to his house in hopes of keeping them out of the way of danger. Erica refused to go to her own home because she didn't want her parents to see her in such a feeble state again. The pack seeing her like that was bad enough.

It would make her parents worry and hover just like they used to before Derek gave her the bite. It would mean more tests and hospital visits and questions that she wouldn't know how to answer about why she relapsed now after being perfectly healthy for over a year.

She keeps Allison company instead.

"You guys all ready?" Derek asks from where he stands in front of the back door. Stiles isn't in the group because he said he wanted to look something up quickly before leaving. He'll catch up with them later. Once Derek sees everybody nod, he opens the door and steps outside, leading the way across the grass and past the tree line. They're not taking any cars because they don't want Elizabeth to potentially hear their approach before they're ready. An unusual abundance of cars parked in her street could tip her off anyway, especially if she knows which vehicles they all drive like Derek suspects she does. No one speaks as they make their way through the preserve, taking the quickest route from Derek and Stiles' home to the Alexander household. The ground slopes dramatically, up and down and up and down, making it slow going. The sound of water from a close-by stream reaches the betas' ears, sounding strangely normal in light of what they're about to do. It follows them.

Halfway, Derek brings them to a stop so that he can go over their battle strategies one last time.

First, they'll try to lure Elizabeth out of her house and away from all of her neighbours so that no one sees anything they shouldn't. If that doesn't work, then Derek will go into the house and get her. Once Elizabeth is through the trees and they're all hidden from prying eyes, they'll attack from two sides. Derek, Jackson, Boyd, Scott and Kira make up the first, with the alpha taking point, and Chris will lead the second, made up of Lydia, Isaac, Danny and, when he gets there, Stiles.

Because Lydia doesn't have any active powers that will be useful in a fight and Kira's powers are still temperamental, they'll stay a short distance away from any combat with Chris and attack with bullets.

It'll be a case of ten on three, assuming that Charlie and Elizabeth's mysterious accomplice also take part. With those numbers and the element of surprise, Derek hopes their plan will be enough for them to come out of the fight victorious. Unfortunately, when he turns to lead the others the rest of the way, he finds that Elizabeth is already there in their path, smirking at all of them.

* * *

Back at the house, Stiles is getting frustrated.

Slamming shut the book in which he'd been looking for a last-minute solution to his magic's problems, he pushes back from the table he's sitting at and gets to his feet with a defeated sigh. He's just finished going through all of the tomes Deaton gave him at the start of the summer and ended up with no results or help whatsoever. All he's done is waste his own time, leaving the rest of the pack and Chris to deal with Elizabeth without him. Realising his mistake, he hurries back down to the ground floor and heads for the back door.

Before his hand can touch the handle, though, he feels a great pain in his chest. He cries out, collapsing and shaking and breathing heavily as he tries to push through it to no avail. It just gets worse. The darkness that taints his magic is tearing itself from him, and his head spins when it's finally freed.

All of a sudden he feels weak. The magic he has still in his body is wholly his own, all white without a trace of black, but there's so little of it there that there may as well be none.

Rolling onto his stomach, he freezes when he senses another presence in the room.

Cautiously, after managing to get his legs under him so that he's kneeling, he looks to his right and finds to his horror a copy of himself. Its body is attenuated, with large bags under its eyes and sunken cheeks. On its thin lips is a snide smile, and when he realises what's just happened, Stiles pushes to his feet and backs away from his double, from the dark half of himself that so resembles how he looked while under the Nogitsune's influence. His mind flashes back to the first couple of visions he had after returning home from New York, where he'd seen this exact duplicate by the Nemeton and in his own vision-darkened living room. Ever since he found out what Elizabeth's curses do, he's been hoping that he never got afflicted with one himself. If he did, he was certain that what he saw in his visions would come to pass, and this is proof of that. Foolishly, he didn't realise that the darkness that was slowly stealing his magic was his own curse building itself up to come out. When it speaks, its voice sounds just as evil and mocking as he remembers.

"Come on now, Stiles, you must've known this was coming," it says, still smiling as it pushes away from where it leans against the wall. "I don't know why you look so shocked. I did warn you, after all." It looks down at itself and examines the clothes on its emaciated body, pulling its shirt up and poking gleefully at the long still-bleeding wound that runs horizontally across its stomach.

Stiles squirms under his darker half's gaze when it gets tired of looking at its own body and settles its eyes once more on him. He thinks of trying to run as he continues to shake in fear, but he knows that he'd be caught right away. If everything his double said in his visions is true now, then he supposes that explains why he feels so vulnerable and scared and why he has so little power left. His darker half took it all. He wishes for Derek to appear, to burst in through the back door and save him, but it's pointless.

He'll have to deal with this alone.

"I have to thank you, you know," the double says, drawing Stiles' attention again. "If you hadn't done that spell, Elizabeth wouldn't have been able to get a hold of your powers and I wouldn't be here." It steps closer until they're face-to-face, noses almost touching. "Now, let's have some fun."


	23. Shapeshifter

The next thing Stiles knows, he's being pulled along by his shirt and flung to the floor with such force that it knocks all the air from his lungs. He slides along the hardwood and cries out in pain when his back connects with the wall with a loud thump and knocks the air from his lungs. Frantically, he tries to scramble back to his feet so that he can run away and actually prepare himself for the impending fight—he'll need every advantage he can get—but his darker half doesn't allow him that mercy.

It advances swiftly on him and kicks him right in his stomach, winding him even more. "C'mon, you can do better than that!" it taunts, aiming another kick, this time at Stiles' side.

Stiles feels tears forming in his eyes as he tries again to get away. He finds success now and manages to get back to his feet without being attacked again, but it's not by luck. His double is just standing there, watching him eerily, probably waiting for him to make the next move. He doesn't want to make it, though, so he backs away toward the kitchen counter, finding it incredibly difficult to overcome the immense terror he feels because his double took all of his confidence and most of his guile. The meagre courage he'd managed to gather before has all but vanished and his new persona is strictly milquetoast. Having cool steel in his hand sounds like a good idea because he doesn't trust the powers he has left, so he keeps his eyes locked with his other half as his back hits the edge of the counter and he fumbles around behind himself, looking for the knife holder. He smiles triumphantly when he finds it, knocking it over in the process, and pulls one of the knives from its home. It's long, sharp and deadly, just what he needs. His enemy smirks right back him, not looking fazed at all, and Stiles knows why when it holds up a hand and sends the knife flying away from him. It gets embedded in the wall.

"Honestly, Stiles, aren't we better than that? Maybe use your brain for once!" it sneers.

Trying desperately to come up with his next move, Stiles flicks his eyes over to the back door. At the very least, if he moves the fight out there it will prevent any more damage being done to his and Derek's home. His double is apparently thinking the same thing, which, _duh_ —they are the same person, technically speaking.

"Don't even think about it," it warns, batting its eyelashes and stepping forward quickly to block Stiles' path. "We're gonna do this here. It'll be more fun, I promise." Without waiting for Stiles to say anything else, it grabs hold of his arm and flings him again, this time through to the living room. It follows sedately, not at all worried about having to defend itself from any retaliation.

Stiles goes tumbling over the back of an armchair and lands on the coffee table. It splinters up the middle and he falls through it, his knees bent over the side because its main frame somehow remains intact. When his head stops spinning, he tries to extricate himself from the wreckage and stumbles, tipping over sideways and catching himself on the sofa cushions. Finally righting himself, he sees that his double isn't paying him any mind. Instead, it holds a hand up in front of its sunken face, watching with glee as fire appears.

"You really don't use these powers enough, you know," it says, meeting Stiles' eyes again. "I'll show you how useful they can be." It tosses the fireball right at the human boy, cackling when he yells and just manages to duck out of the way. "What's the matter? Not a fan?"

Frantically, Stiles runs through the foyer and into the dining room on the other side, putting the large table in between himself and his enemy.

His own magic still feels pitiful, but he latches on to it anyway and tries to use it. He feels his eyes glow their supernatural golden colour as his palms heat up, and he attempts to do the same thing his dark half just did to him, throwing fire at it. Of course, it doesn't hit its target and goes sailing back through to the living room, where it catches on the back of the sofa, setting it ablaze. While his double is distracted by the flames, he edges to his right, toward the hall, and makes a break for it at the last minute, tearing open the door that leads down into the basement and almost stumbling on the stairs. He hears another set of footsteps behind him but doesn't slow his gait, and when he reaches the gym he keeps on going, through to the catacombs and into the hallway that leads off into the pack's several training rooms. His plan is to get inside the one containing their gun locker and break it open if he can. A single well-aimed bullet should take care of his problem—he hopes—but before he can wrap his hand around the lock and try to yank it off by force or melt it with his fire, fingers tangle in his head and pull him back roughly.

"Cunning plan there, Stiles... Cunning indeed," the double says, letting go of Stiles' hair after it has put itself between the boy and the gun locker. It keeps its hand raised and brings forth a burst of magic, sending Stiles flying backward and pinning him to the wall opposite. "You're kinda pathetic, you know. I mean, we're basically the same person and I'm still kicking your ass.

"I know I have more power than you do right now, but come on! We're supposed to think the same, but it's like you're not even trying. You're making this too easy for me that it's actually pretty boring." With another wave of his hand, he releases Stiles from his magical bonds and smiles smugly.

"OK, I like a laugh, so I'm gonna give you a fair shot. Think of something and come at me with it!"

Getting sick of all the taunting, Stiles wracks his brain and comes up with all the spells he read in the hours of research Deaton and Holly have forced upon him, along with anything else he can remember from wherever. Not much of it has stuck, apparently, but there are a couple of things that stand out to him as viable options. The first thing he tries comes from what Derek told him once. It's what Landon did to get the upper hand when Derek tried to get revenge on him for killing Jeremy, channelling your magic into physical strength. He holds his hands up to his chest and lets it flow back through his whole body, into all of his muscles.

When he's done, he looks up to see that his double is just finishing doing the same thing, which is honestly disappointing but, in hindsight, unsurprising.

"Alrighty, let's keep things physical for the time being, 'K?" it grins before dashing forward with a fist raised. Stiles moves out of the way at the last second and it punches clear through the brick wall behind him. Cracks spread out from the new hole it just made, which threaten to crumble the whole thing and destroy the house's foundations, making it collapse in on itself. Pulling its fist out, it examines its bloodied knuckles before going after Stiles again.

Stiles moves his body in a complicated dance to avoid each swing.

He feels as though he's in an anime. He uses everything he's learned in recent months, all the stupidly acrobatic moves that Derek, Isaac and Scott have taught him whenever he's joined in on their weekly training sessions, to attack and defend. Another perk of making their bodies and muscles stronger like they've both done is that they feel every blow less, can take more. They're far from indestructible, but it's about as close as they can probably ever get. They push off walls fast and meet each other in a tangle of fists and feet before separating again to regroup. Stiles comes away from the latest tangle with a nasty set of teeth marks on his left arm. The skin is broken, torn open, and it bleeds slowly until blood drips from the tips of his fingers onto the concrete floor. Sweat soaks through his clothes, sticking his shirt to his back and his hair to his forehead, and he has to wipe away what little he can every time he gets a second to breathe, otherwise it'll run down into his eyes and blind him temporarily, making him more susceptible to attacks.

Eventually, he gets caught out by just that. He doesn't move fast enough and, while he's distracted, his double manages to land a hard punch in his stomach, uppercutting him and sending him flying up through the ceiling and the earth beyond. He lands in a pile of rubble and dirt on the preserve floor.

His forearm burns.

The double bends its knees and jumps up through the hole Stiles left behind, landing gracefully on its feet right next to the groaning boy. It tips him over onto his side with a foot as it wipes off the dust that sweat makes stick to its face. "Well...this has been great, Stiles, but I'm afraid you're starting to bore me. I hoped you'd be better, honestly. I think it's time for this fight to end," it says, sounding strangely sad. It brings up its foot, preparing to stamp down on Stiles' head and crush the life out of him.

It knows it's bringing about the end of itself, too, but it doesn't care.

Before it can actually make the move, though, a great bang sounds throughout the area and sharp pain blossoms across its right shoulder. It stumbles backward and looks up in shock, its top lip curling back in a snarl when it sees Jordan Parrish standing a few feet in front of the back door, gun raised. "Ugh, how lovely of you to interrupt me," it seethes, touching a hand to the bullet wound in its shoulder and hissing.

Parrish is completely dumbfounded. He guesses that the boy still lying on the ground and groaning is the real Stiles, but he doesn't know what to make of whoever the second boy is.

Still, because they were about to crush Stiles' head—at least that's what it looked like to him—when they walk a short distance away and begin trying to dig the bullet out of their shoulder, he steps cautiously closer to Stiles, keeping an eye on the darker and skinnier version the entire time in case he comes back for another go unexpectedly. "Stiles!" he whispers hoarsely, crouching down next to the boy and reaching out to touch him with the hand not still tightly gripping his gun. He helps Stiles to sit up and frowns when he holds his left arm to his chest, his face scrunched up in pain. "Tell me what's wrong!"

"I think my arm is broken," Stiles replies, struggling to his feet with Parrish's help.

"Serves you right!" the double yells as it continues to dig around in its own shoulder. Another few seconds of searching later, it finally locates the small piece of metal and yanks it out with a splattering of blood, tossing it to the ground with disdain. Its breathing is heavy. "Now, where were we?"

The next thing Stiles knows, in a flash his darker half is leaping forward and tackling Parrish to the ground. He wasn't anticipating that; he thought it would go for him to finish him off like it was trying to do before the deputy appeared on the scene, and he watches in shock and pain as the two go rolling. Its enhanced strength seems to have gone, probably because its concentration was broken when Parrish shot it, so they're on a relatively level playing field. Stiles can't do much to help the deputy because of his arm, not to mention his dizzy head, but after looking around for a weapon he can wield with one hand, a broken-off branch or something, his eyes catch on Parrish's gun, dropped on accident when his double knocked the man off of his feet. He scurries over to the regulation firearm, just managing to snatch it up before the brawling pair can roll over it again. It's difficult to get his grip right when he only has one useable hand, but eventually he manages to get his index finger on the trigger, line up the sights, and aim the barrel directly at Parrish and his double. After taking a deep breath and waiting for the right moment, he pulls the trigger.

The kickback sends new waves of pain down his broken arm, making him drop the gun again, but he ignores it and smiles in triumph when he sees that his shot landed. His double has a brand new bullet hole right in the centre of its lower back, in its spine. It writhes and screams out its agony on the ground when Parrish is able to push it off of himself, and Stiles rushes over to help the man up.

After Parrish is back on his feet, Stiles bends down and picks the gun up off of the ground and checks that it's still working properly. When he sees that it is, he closes the distance between him and his double.

It makes for a pitiful sight, really.

He thinks that the second bullet must have damaged its spine because its legs don't move on their own. Its wails have quietened now and it breathes heavily as it turns itself over onto its back and stares up at him with its face twisted up in contempt, making it look even uglier. Stiles can't believe he was actually scared of this snivelling version of himself, that he spent so many months scared of turning into it for real. He's so much better than that. His whole body aches, his arm mainly, and he has a cut on his forehead that he doesn't remember getting that bleeds continuously into his left eye, but he doesn't care about any of that at all. He's too buoyed up by his own pride that he came out victorious.

"What're you gonna do to me now, _Stiles_?" the thing sneers, eyes narrowed. "Kill me? Run off to your stupid little mate and save him from getting slaughtered by that witch bitch? How do you know you're not already too late? I can feel him, too, y'know, and I know he's in danger."

It draws out the last word for dramatic effect.

"Go to hell," Stiles replies calmly as he raises the gun and shoots his double right between the eyes. It falls backward, lying flat on the ground, lifeless, before beginning to disappear. It fades into dust like it had in his second vision and leaves behind something glowing and white that hovers in the air for a couple of seconds before shooting through him. It settles in his chest and reunites with the magic Elizabeth didn't manage to taint.

It feels good to be whole and in complete control again.

Taking his gun back from Stiles, Parrish re-holsters it and brushes as much dirt off of his uniform as he can. He notices that he has a bite mark on his arm, a twin of the one on Stiles'. "Alright, what the hell is going on?" he asks as he tears a piece of fabric off from his sleeve and wraps it around the shallow wound to stop the bleeding. "I came over here to give you guys an update on what's going on with the investigation into Marie Adler's murder, and hear yelling coming from inside. So I open the door and have to put out your entire living room because it's completely up in flames, and then there's this great crash from out here and I see you lying next to a huge hole in the ground with someone else that looks like you. What was that thing?" He stops himself from asking anything more when he sees that Stiles is wincing and holding his broken arm tighter to his chest. He guesses that, now that the adrenaline of battle has worn off, the boy is feeling the pain of the break more deeply. "Never mind. It can wait. Let's get you patched up, OK?" He goes to wrap a comforting arm around Stiles' shoulders, but he's shrugged off.

"No!" Stiles exclaims, not caring at all about his own wellbeing. He grits his teeth as he repositions his arm into a slightly more comfortable position and begins walking toward the trees. "I have to get to the others!"

Exasperated, Parrish hesitates before making a quick dash back inside the house to find the first piece of fabric he can find, an emerald green tablecloth. As he hurries to catch up to Stiles, he holds it between his teeth and tears it up into a series of strips. "At least let me put your arm in a sling, for God's sake!" he implores, making Stiles stop and stay still while he uses what little medical knowledge he remembers from his days at the academy to work the ripped-up tablecloth around the boy's body, fitting his broken arm snugly inside of it before tying it off. Another strip is tried around his head, which helps to stop the cut on the left side of his forehead from bleeding into his eyes any more.

"OK, _now_ I'm going," Stiles announces as he sets off walking again. He must admit that the sling does make things a little easier for him because he doesn't have to actively think about keeping his arm in position anymore. Still, he doesn't say anything. He's too caught up trying to find his bond to Derek.

When he finds it, his eyes widen and his heart rate picks up in panic.

He walks faster.

* * *

"Well, Derek? Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there, gaping at me like an imbecile?" Elizabeth asks snidely, hopping down from the fallen tree on which she stands. She grins when all of the betas gathered behind the man growl at her threateningly. She waves at them as if she's greeting a bunch of young nieces and nephews. "Aww, puppies... So cute!"

"What are you doing out here?" Derek counters, ignoring Elizabeth's question. He rearranges his face into a neutral expression, trying to come off like he's not scared of her, while at the same time letting a quiet rumble build in his chest to calm his betas down a little. Their growling cuts off after a couple of seconds, though he does hear what he thinks is Chris cocking one of his guns, no doubt getting ready to fire at a moment's notice. It's a smart move, he thinks. "If you keep lurking around the preserve like this, people are going to think you're up to no good. You wouldn't want that, right?"

Elizabeth tips her head back with a laugh. "Oh, Derek! And here I thought your mate was the funny one!" she chuckles, clasping her hands casually behind her back.

As inconspicuously as he can manage, Derek glances around the immediate area for any signs of Charlie or Elizabeth's still-unidentified accomplice. He gets a little nervous when he doesn't see hide nor hair of either of them, knowing that just because they don't appear to be there doesn't mean that's actually the case. Most of his attention is always kept on Elizabeth in case she suddenly attacks, and he wonders what is taking Stiles so long to catch up. His pack, Chris, and himself have been standing in the same spot with Elizabeth for several minutes, so unless something has happened, the boy should have appeared by now. He ponders whether _that_ is where Charlie and the mysterious woman are, keeping Stiles at bay. Perhaps it's just because his mind is so focused on other, more pressing things—like the grinning woman in front of him—but he can't quite get a grasp on his mating bond to Stiles to figure out for sure whether the teen is OK. This worries him. "You still haven't answered my question," he points out once Elizabeth has resumed her creepy staring.

"I was coming to see you, silly! I wanted to check up on how things had progressed with the curse I placed inside Stiles, but I guess I already have my answer, hmm?" Elizabeth answers, her bottom lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout that makes her look like a preschooler. "Quite disappointing, I must say..."

Deciding not to mention Cora, Derek watches Elizabeth carefully as she walks right up to him at a leisurely pace, clearly unconcerned about getting close to someone who might literally claw her eyes out.

"There's no use pretending that you weren't just on your way to kill me, Derek," she says, reaching out to touch his face and grinning again when Derek leans back, away from her hand. "I overheard everything you and your friend, Chris, just said, so I suppose all that planning you lot obviously did will be going to waste. What a shame, huh? Never fear, though. I have complete confidence that you can still give me a run for my money if you all try your very best." She winks at all of the betas still gathered a short distance behind their alpha.

"What exactly are we waiting for?" Jackson asks testily, ready for action.

Danny glares his best friend into silence.

"We're waiting for my daughter and my dear friend to show up, of course!" Elizabeth answers, a note of exasperation in her voice. "You'll give them that, won't you? It would be selfish to take _all_ the fun for ourselves." As soon as she finishes speaking, she hears footsteps behind her and turns to see the two people in question walking toward her. "Ah, you're here! Wonderful!"

Charlie looks like she would rather be anywhere else. She walks with the same jerky movements that Derek remembers from a couple of nights before, and he has to avert his eyes when she looks up at him guiltily, like she's begging to be saved or put out of her misery. He'll try to keep that in mind, but if she ends up getting in the way of him killing Elizabeth, or if she fatally injures any of his pack, then she'll unfortunately have to die, too, mind control spell or not. Elizabeth's friend still wears their signature cloak, the pulled-up hood keeping their face hidden in shadow and their identity a secret. He watches warily as she and Elizabeth embrace like old friends, talking to each other with such low voices that his preternatural hearing can't pick up on the words.

He knows that they can't be talking about anything good, though, and he decides to attack while Elizabeth's back is turned in hopes of getting the upper hand.

He's just about to leap forward when her friend moves first.

The inconnu raises their arms to their head and pulls the hood back, finally revealing who they are. It's Holly, her blonde hair slicked back into a neat ponytail that's similar to Elizabeth's, only shorter. She keeps eye contact with Derek while she undoes the two clasps at the neck of her cloak and drops it to the floor, smirking.

"Hello, Derek," she greets.

"It's you?" said man breathes, his mouth agape. " _You're_ the one who's been helping her?"

"Indeed. Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Derek doesn't know how to respond to that. His stance becomes less aggressive, his plan to attack leaving his mind in light of this new revelation. "You two know each other?" he asks, backing up a couple of steps when the two women move to stand side by side, both of their arms crossed just below their chests. They form a united front, with Charlie still lingering a little off to the side, separated.

"Allow me to explain," Holly drawls, the corner of her mouth still raised even though the smirk is for the most part gone. "When you and Stiles came to visit me all those months ago, looking for answers about what Landon did to me and my old pack, I was angry and feeling sorry for myself. My magic was still locked away because of your uncle's extreme cruelty, but it could still sense that Stiles had some serious power in him. I wanted Landon to be killed, and I knew that Stiles could do it, so I helped the two of you in any way I could. I knew he was dead when my magic was suddenly freed a few days after your visit, but because my body had been out of commission for so long, I couldn't do anything with it. I was too weak to use it. I got angrier, at myself and at the world. I was tired of being the victim, and I wanted to make everyone pay. I didn't care how. That's when Elizabeth came knocking. We used to be friends, you see, back when she first got pregnant with little Charlie over there," she glances off to her left at the girl in question, "back when she was still exclusively practising light magic. We drifted apart after she began experimenting with the darker side and lost touch.

"She offered to heal me completely if I helped her. I agreed.

"Only she wasn't strong enough to do it completely. As you can see, I still have some scars and I can't do everything I once could. She needed more power, and I told her about Stiles. We made a plan to come here and see how far he had progressed, whether he was ready. My sister, Maria, objected to the whole thing. You remember her, don't you? Lovely thing... She said she would warn you that we were coming. We couldn't have that, so I killed her, as much as it pained me after she looked after me so selflessly all those years..."

 _They're both fucking crazy_ , Derek thinks, wishing that Stiles was by his side to hear all of this, too.

Elizabeth takes over. "We made a plan. Holly and Charlie would infiltrate your circle in different ways, Charlie into the pack to find out everything about them, and Holly into Stiles' training. She went to another of her old friends and his mentor, Alan Deaton, with the lie that she recovered when Landon was killed and wanted to help train Stiles as a sort of thank you."

Jackson mumbles under his breath, "The exposition is strong with this one..."

Danny elbows him in the ribs.

"There, Holly kept an eye on Stiles' progress," Elizabeth continues, unaware or uncaring of the beta's criticism. "The only problem was that things weren't advancing as fast as I wanted. Stiles was too tentative, and Deaton objected when I got Holly to suggest other methods for his training that would move things along more. So...we got rid of him. He's been a guest in my basement ever since."

A thought occurs to Derek, and he turns to Holly. "Wait, that's why you showed up late to that one session with your hair all messed up! You were getting Deaton out of the picture!" he accuses, pointing a finger at the blonde dramatically. The timing fits, especially since no one has seen a single sign of Deaton since before that night, not the pack nor any of his clients. He becomes incensed and narrows his eyes when Holly nods, but he doesn't make a move just yet. There's still more information he wants to get before he kills the two women.

"I started casting the curses," Elizabeth explains gleefully, proud of her own ingenuity. "This forced Stiles to use more of his magic and made him progress faster." Her smile slips. "Too fast, it turned out. He was able to do things I never could have foreseen, things that shouldn't have been possible until after _years_ of studious learning and practise. I was impressed, but I knew I had to do something about it before he got a handle on it all and made stealing it impossible. That's when I knew I needed more power—I needed more power to get the original power I came here for; ironic, isn't it?

"As luck would have it, this town was home to a Nemeton, and you know how that went. It was perfect, even more so with what Stiles did to himself a couple of days ago. He laid himself out for me on a platter..."

She cackles, sending shivers up Derek's spine.

By this point, the rest of the pack is getting restless. They want to attack, but out of respect for their alpha they refrain from doing so until Derek makes the first move. They know he must have a reason for waiting, and admittedly they're all curious themselves to find out how Elizabeth accomplished everything she did.

"Anyway... I put my curse inside of his magic and let it go to work," the witch finishes smugly. "It was supposed to be so much more potent that way, but seeing as you're all still here, I guess not. Never mind. It doesn't matter because I'm done playing games. I'll be taking care of you all in a minute anyway, and then we'll go and find your little mate and get what we came here for in the first place."

Before Derek, Chris or the rest of the pack can prepare to defend themselves, she leaps forward with her palms glowing and heads straight for the alpha, wanting to have the strongest one all to herself.

The betas all catch up fast and respond with their claws and fangs bared.

It's chaos.

Lydia, Kira and Chris all stay back with their guns, looking for any pauses in the action that'll give them a chance to get off a shot or two. Everybody else splits apart to focus on different targets. Derek and Isaac face off against Elizabeth. Even with two on one, she proves to be a formidable foe and is easily able to keep up with them. She moves expertly and doesn't even look like she's taking the fight seriously, firing off little bolts of magic that shock the wolves, aiming to annoy rather than outright kill. She plays with them cockily. Danny and Jackson go up against Holly, who, while less powerful than Elizabeth because she doesn't have any of the Nemeton's power, is still able to hold her own. The two betas work in tandem to combat her magic, one of them distracting her while the other tries to attack from behind. Because they've been best friends for years, each of them is able to guess the other's movements before they're made, and they work in perfect synchronisation. They feel it's a good strategy, but it still doesn't work. They fail to land a single hit that's anything more than a graze, much to their frustration.

Lastly, Boyd fights against Charlie. The girl participates even though she doesn't want to, having been ordered to do so by her mother before they left the house earlier. She'd rather lay down her own life than take Boyd's, but there's nothing she can do to stop herself as she wields the magic her mother has lent her to try and take him down.

She doesn't actually know how to use any of it, but that doesn't matter. It's like it has a mind of its own, and it means that her mother doesn't need to keep giving her more commands to carry out. The woman's magic does it all for her, meaning that Charlie is simply along for the ride, like a marionette. She still feels everything, though, every time Boyd manages to nick her with a claw or the tip of a fang. Her control is so lacking that she can't even open her mouth to cry out in pain at the small wounds.

After Boyd gets particularly close to her throat, using his superior strength to launch himself right into her personal space within a split second, her hands shove out and connect with the centre of his chest.

A large burst of energy is released that sends him stumbling backwards and makes his heart stutter in his chest. It stops for a few seconds before kicking in again, and the small moment of panic he has about this is what gives Charlie the opening she needs to take him out of the fight.

She's glad when her mother's influence doesn't make her kill the tall boy.

Instead, all she does is sneak up behind him with a large, sturdy branch in her hand while he tries to get his breathing back under control, and she uses this branch to whack him over the head and send him crumpling to the ground. Now that he's lying flat on his back, unable to defend himself, Elizabeth's magic makes her angle the branch vertically and plunge it without compunction straight through his abdomen, impaling and securing him in place. He wakes up briefly at the flash of bright pain but succumbs to unconsciousness once more a few seconds later, when the shock of it becomes to much for his brain to handle.

It's at this point that Lydia fires a bullet at Charlie. Charlie only just manages to dodge it, and when she's caught up with what just happened she goes right for the other redhead, her mother's magic continuing to guide her way and make her body move in ways it ordinarily could not. She weaves in and out of the way of more bullets until she's an inch away from Lydia, at which point she yanks the gun from her hand.

When Lydia tries to scramble away and pull out a second firearm from the waistband of her skirt, Charlie throws the first gun at the back of her head with such force that she is immediately knocked out.

Holly has Danny and Jackson beaten surprisingly quickly. The two betas are no match for her when she really starts to fight. To begin with, she didn't use all of her skill because she wanted to see what the boys would do, but after a while it began to get boring. Her clothes have several tiny cuts in them, the material of her shirt fraying and the skin beneath marred with thin, raised lines of red left behind from when she didn't get out of the way of a claw quick enough. Getting tired of going through the motions and wanting to get the whole thing over with already, she plays along when Jackson tries yet again to distract her and turns in his direction, pretending to focus all of her attention on him. When she hears Danny dart around behind her and push off from a tree to move toward her faster, claws no doubt raised, she spins back around at the last second and, channelling all of her magic into her right hand, punches him right in the centre of his stomach. His claws end up stopping an inch from her face, close but yet so far from their target. She smiles when he falls to the ground and begins coughing up blood rather violently.

"Pathetic," she says disparagingly.

Jackson is outraged as he watches Danny convulse on the ground, clutching his stomach and whining in pain. He tries to retaliate, his anger making him blind to logic, and rushes toward Holly with his fangs bared and a loud growl building in his chest. He's put out of commission just as easily as his best friend.

Seeing that Charlie has begun advancing on her now that Lydia is down for the count, Kira backs away and fires off a couple of shots at the redheaded girl. They seem to have no effect, almost bouncing off of her pale skin without doing any damage at all. Kira begins backing away, looking around desperately for Chris, who is on the other side of the clearing, dealing with his own problems now that Holly has shifted targets to him. As a last ditch effort, Kira tries to send a bolt of electricity at Charlie, but it backfires and she shocks herself instead.

The current courses through her body and boils her blood.

Chris fires off shell after shell from his shotgun, the end of the barrel pointed directly at Holly's head. Using her magic, the woman stops every piece of buckshot before it can touch her skin, and they hover in the air momentarily before dropping to the ground like flies. Panicking, Chris aims his gun up at a thick branch that he has just passed under, one which Holly will also walk beneath at any second. It has a small wasp's nest on the end. It's perfect. He aims for the base of the branch and pulls the trigger, hoping to cause it to drop on her head, but somehow he misses, his impeccable aim failing him for the first time since he was a teenager and his father was teaching him the ropes of hunting.

The brief thought of Gerard stirs up old anger before he dismisses it.

"Nice try," Holly sneers, raising a hand above her head and swinging it back down sharply.

She takes a page out of Chris' book and sends the branch, complete with wasp's nest, right at his head. The nest explodes on impact, and wasps fly madly around him as he tries to bat them away, his shotgun dropping to the ground with a clatter as he tries to run from their stinging.

Over the next ridge is a small river, and he throws himself into the freezing water to escape being stung any more. He already has a series of throbbing bumps on his face and arms that itch like crazy, and he stays submerged for about thirty seconds before braving the air again, cautious of more wasps. Luckily, his hastily thought-out plan seems to have worked and they've all scattered, no doubt to begin forming a new home.

Derek and Isaac aren't faring much better against Elizabeth. Because of his alpha status, Derek is able to hold out for much longer than the beta, but he still has a hard time dealing with all the blows she lands on him.

His body aches all over from the small bolts of magic she started out using, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to make a successful move to retaliate. It's a war of attrition. Elizabeth keeps most of her powers at bay, in reserve on the off chance that Derek manages to get lucky, and instead expends tiny doses to wear him down. She doesn't lose any of her energy or enthusiasm, and seeing the alpha begin to show sighs of fatigue only serves to improve her mood further. Isaac is more of a nuisance than a real threat.

The beta dances around her uselessly, waiting for an opening that never comes.

A few minutes into the fight, after Elizabeth apparently tires of playing games with him and Derek, Isaac gets distracted from his main target when he hears Danny cry out in pain, followed by the horrible sounds of coughing and gurgling. He turns his head to the left and pauses in his movements to look for his boyfriend on the other side of the clearing. This foolhardy decision is what brings about his own downfall. He hopes for a second that Derek has Elizabeth occupied enough that his distraction won't matter, and another second later he is shot and blasted backward as something hits him directly in the centre of his chest. His body feels like it's on fire, starting in his heart and spreading out through his veins until it's in the tips of his fingers and toes, and he sees a bright flash of faintly red light as Elizabeth's magic impacts before his world becomes nothing but a dizzying blur. He's shot off of his feet and up into the air, spinning wildly, and when he lands again his head is the first thing to come back to earth and he's knocked out in an instant, leaving Derek to continue fighting Elizabeth on his own. Not that it really makes much difference.

Derek can feel all of his connections to his betas change as they're taken out one by one. His threads to Boyd, Jackson, Danny, Lydia, Kira and Isaac all join Allison's and Erica's in shadow, with nothing coming back his way but the faint sense and comfort that they're all still alive. Boyd and Danny have passed out, and Allison and Erica are too far away from him to pick up on anything substantial.

His thread to Stiles is still active, and because their mating bond makes it his strongest one, he can easily pick up on the pain the boy is in. It worries him, but unlike Isaac, he doesn't let it take his mind away from the woman still grinning maniacally in front of him.

Instead, he uses the pain he feels in both his own body and in Stiles' to fuel his fighting.

It makes him stronger, less susceptible to all of Elizabeth's tricks. In the short break between her spells, he lunges for her with his hands raised and manages to get a good hit in. His claws rake down her side as a sort of payback for what her curse made him do to Stiles just over three weeks ago, and he feels a smirk form on his lips at the thought. It's justice in his eyes.

"Ah! You fucking _animal_!" Elizabeth shrieks in pain. She holds a hand over the long gashes and heals them quickly, a white light emanating from the area as the bleeding stops and her flesh knits itself back together. Once that is done, she gathers all of her powers, everything she had from birth and everything she stole from the Nemeton, and lets it spread through her body. "You'll pay for that..." Without another word, and before Derek has a chance to get himself ready for the move, she slices her hand horizontally through the air and sweeps his legs out.

He lands with a heavy thud on his back.

Now that Derek is temporarily out of commission, Elizabeth uses the few seconds of reprieve she has and focuses on the ground beneath which he lies as she holds her arms out in front of her, parallel to each other. Slowly, she widens the gap between them, and as she does this the earth starts to shake and split. It takes a lot of concentration, and she's grateful to Holly and Charlie for taking out all of Derek's allies so that she doesn't have a chance of being interrupted halfway through. Eventually, the ground splits completely and creates a deep fissure that the alpha only just manages to avoid falling into.

Derek rolls over onto his side at the last second and leaps to his feet to watch it's progress.

Holly and Charlie are equally as awestruck, but for different reasons.

The blonde practically salivates like a dog over the thought of what she and Elizabeth could do with all of that power—and that's without adding Stiles' to it all—all the people they could take down just to get even more. A polar opposite, if her body allowed it, Charlie would be shaking in fear. As it is, she still can't move without her mother's magic's permission, so she's stuck where she is.

By this point, Chris has managed to get himself up and moving again, the pain he feels from all of his wasp stings being ignored as much as possible. He stands at the top of the clearing, clutching a thick tree to stop his shaky legs from giving out and sending him sprawling to the bottom, possibly right into the fissure that's steadily widening into a full-blown chasm. There's nothing but all-consuming blackness at the bottom. He scans the area and picks out everyone's unconscious bodies, noting with relief that they're all at least a foot away from the hole in the ground that Elizabeth is creating.

Because the chasm didn't serve its original purpose thanks to Derek's quick feet, its creation turns into more of a display of power rather than anything with which she plans to bury her enemies alive. "What's the matter, Derek? Haven't you ever seen _true_ power before?!" she goads, grinning. In an instant, the ground becomes steady again as she stops widening the chasm and clenches one of her hands into a fist.

"Get a load of this!" she yells.

A large piece of rock almost the size of her whole body breaks off from one of the chasm walls, and with a swing of her arm, Elizabeth sends it hurtling in Derek's direction. He manages to dodge out of its way and, because it was thrown with such force, it carves through the earth until it's buried about halfway. She repeats this move time and again, tearing off more and more from the chasm walls and trying to crush Derek with the large boulders. She feels drunk on power, like she can do anything, and the size of the boulders just gets bigger and bigger as she goes until they're so heavy and she has to use both hands to hurl them at their target. All the while, Chris tries to go unnoticed as he pulls the unconscious pack members out of harm's way. He carries them as delicately as he can manage—taking extra care with Danny and Boyd since they're the most severely wounded—and brings them to rest by the stream in which he sought safety from the wasps. Surprisingly, Holly and Charlie don't make a move to stop him, either because they're too enraptured watching Elizabeth and Derek to notice him or because they just don't care. The latter option seems more likely, at least in Holly's case.

Eventually, Derek starts to get tired again, more slow, and as a result he's not fast enough to move out of the way of one of Elizabeth's attacks. The large rock hits and dislocates his left shoulder.

He cries out and clutches at it, trying desperately to put it back in place before Elizabeth can make another move, but he's not swift enough. A smaller rock comes flying at his head and in his distraction he doesn't duck in time. It hits him in the side of his forehead and knocks him down. He lies there on the ground, unable to move much as his vision rights itself and the figure standing above him, partially silhouetted by the sun passing overhead, comes into view. His head throbs, and he moves his right hand up to clutch at it. It comes away wet and painted a sickly red that, probably because of his head wound, turns his stomach.

"Well, you put up a decent fight, Derek, I'll give you that," Elizabeth says as she looks down on the man, "but I think it's best that we bring this to a close, don't you? I'm sure Stiles is expecting me, wherever he is, and I don't want to keep him waiting. I have more power to collect and all. Nice knowing you."

She raises a hand to make the killing blow...

But she's thrown backward before she can actually strike.

"Get the fuck away from my man!" Stiles orders threateningly with Parrish stood behind him, his unbroken arm held out. While he keeps most of his attention focused solely on Elizabeth as the woman gets back to her feet, as Parrish skirts around the edge of the clearing, over to where Chris Argent leans heavily against a tree—all of the ex-hunter's remaining energy was sapped in making sure the unconscious and slowly healing members of the pack were all safe—Stiles keeps a small piece of his attention focused on the two men, too.

Parrish is quick to help Chris walk away, following the other man's directions and dropping him off with the betas, Lydia and Kira, next to the small stream.

Stiles and Parrish's trek through the preserve had been a tough one. Stiles' head would start spinning again every minute or so because of the blow he took to it when he was blasted through the training room ceiling. He persevered through it, though, never slowing down for more than a second because he could feel his connections to the rest of his pack dimming one by one as, he assumed, they were knocked out of the fight.

His magic was practically vibrating in anticipation as he and Parrish got closer, like it was just itching to be used and get revenge on the woman who morphed it temporarily into something evil. It's a desire he definitely possessed himself, and it made him walk faster as it got more intense. His remaining thread to Derek was going haywire by the time they finally reached the battle site, projecting to him all sorts of feelings and emotions—fear and uncertainty, mainly—and when he crested over the final hill and looked down on the clearing, he understood why. The sight of the chasm was shocking, and luckily neither Elizabeth nor Holly realised that they had new company as he and Parrish hurried quietly down the slope and onto even ground.

Derek gets to his feet as soon as Elizabeth is blasted away from him, and when he sees Stiles standing a few feet away he hurries over to the boy, in a panic because of his bloodied state. "Stiles! What the fuck happened?!" he demands, resisting the urge to reach out and touch because he doesn't know what other injuries his mate may have that aren't obvious to the naked eye. The slung-up arm and the red-stained bandage around Stiles' head give him enough of a fright as it is.

"Later, Sourwolf," Stiles replies, catching movement behind Derek.

Elizabeth has finished getting to her feet and Holly is looking over at the two of them murderously, so he pushes his wolf quickly out of the way and raises his hand again. Using his magic, he holds Holly and Charlie in place against two trees, being more gentle with the redhead because he can tell the part she played was unwilling.

Derek watches, ready to step in and try again if he deems that Stiles is in too much danger.

Righting her skirt around her waist, Elizabeth is furious. "That was rude!" she yells at Stiles, feeling more determined than ever to kill Stiles and Derek now that her accomplices can no longer help.

In this moment, Stiles knows that it's time to finally do what he planned on doing days ago, when he cast the spell that started all of his magical problems. "Get ready, Der... I don't know what this is going to do, exactly, but just run with it and use it to kill her, OK?" he warns, whispering in an effort to make it so that only his mate can hear him. He steps a little bit closer, within touching distance of the alpha but keeping his eyes on Elizabeth as she continues to dust off her skirt, and knows it's worked when he sees Derek's head turn in his direction out of his periphery. "I'm gonna have to set Holly and Charlie free for this to work, so you'll have to act fast." As soon as the last word has left his tongue, he gathers all of his magic close again—Holly and Charlie drop from where he was holding them up against two tree trunks—and forms it into a tiny ball. He reaches out a hand until his palm touches the centre of Derek's chest and pushes his magic out of his and into the man's body instead. All of it goes as commanded, and he's left feeling terribly cold and weak for several seconds before his magic takes root inside of its new host and flourishes.

Confused, Derek doesn't know what Stiles has just done until it's already happening. It's like there's another presence in his heart all of a sudden, shining light on everything within him until they're completely merged together. He hunches over and everything around him is blocked out as he gets swept up in the sensation, and in the next second he feels himself changing.

His claws and fangs come out, his eyebrows disappear as coarse hair sprouts along the sides of his face, and he knows his eyes would be glowing red if they were open.

But that's just the beginning...

He keeps changing, further than he ever has before. His clothes split apart as his muscles bulge obscenely and grow in size, and the ruined material flutters to the ground, useless, and his bones break and he falls down to his knees. Arms, legs, feet, hands...all of it gets bigger, longer, and all the hair on his body gets thicker until he's covered from head to foot in dark fur. When he tries to stand again, moving from four limbs to two, he finds that he already is. Stiles' magic has turned him into a wolf, in every sense of the word, paws and tail and all. He feels so strong, like he can take on anything and come out the victor. It's invigorating.

Stiles is speechless. To anyone else, Derek's new form would probably seem terrifying. The alpha is this hulking mass of pure muscle and sharp claws and teeth, coming up well past his waist even on four legs, like a Great Dane. To him, though...because he knows who's beneath all of that, he's not scared at all.

No one, not Elizabeth, Holly or Charlie, even thought of attacking during Derek's transformation.

They were too busy watching it happen to take the opening it gave them, and now that it's over and Derek stands before them, intimidating and like nothing they want to mess with, they still don't go to make a move. Charlie wishes she could retreat again, could get away from what's happening. When the wolf bares its large teeth and growls in their direction, her body shakes, and the fact that Holly and Elizabeth also seem frightened of this new Derek only serves to make her shake more. She closes her eyes so that she doesn't have to see the end coming.

Because of his magic, Stiles is linked with Derek so wholly, in mind and in power, and he knows they've won. No longer feeling cold, he pats the wolf a couple of times between his ears before stepping away.

"Sic 'em," he instructs, smirking.

Derek bounds forward in an instant and makes a beeline right for Elizabeth. She tries to hit him with another blast of magic to stop him, but it just bounces off of his fur like it's nothing. Derek is at his zenith with Stiles' magic inside of him, protecting him, and he takes vindictive pleasure in the terrified scream Elizabeth lets out when he pounces on her, knocking her to the ground roughly and catching one of her flailing arms between his jaws. One sharp bite later and he's tossing his head to the side and throwing Elizabeth's useless arm away, licking the blood from his chops. It's violent and disgusting and, in his mind and in Stiles'—he can feel the boy's essence vibrate with approval inside of his barrel-like chest—it's nothing less than she deserves. He tears the other three limbs from her body and completes things by ripping off her head and spitting it in Holly's direction. He spares a brief thought for Charlie, who looks like she may throw up any second, but the girl is wiped from his mind when Holly turns to flee. The blonde should know better than to run away from a wolf, he thinks, and he proves it to her by closing the distance between them before she can get even three feet away.

Holly meets a similar fate as Elizabeth, but all of her limbs remain connected to her torso. Derek only tears off her head, leaping into the air and turning his open-wide jaws sideways so that he can fit them around the back of her neck and bite down. When he lands gracefully on his four paws, it's over.

Her mother's control disappearing with her life, Charlie's body sags with exhaustion as it's freed.

She'd quickly grown to hate the woman, but still, seeing Elizabeth being torn apart like that makes her feel a deep sense of loss, and she can't help the tears that build in her eyes as she turns away and resolutely tries to resist the urge to look back over her shoulder at the remains. Stiles approaches her, and the tears spill over when she feels an arm wrap around her body in a half hug, giving her comfort even though she played a major part in what has happened over the past two months. Stiles is the forgiving type, she should have known.

Parrish leaves Chris with the others and returns to the scene of the battle, at the same time as Derek, and is shocked by the sight of the wolf. He's about to get out his gun again, but then he sees Stiles break away from Charlie and walk right on up to it fearlessly, so he stays his hand. Looking around for Elizabeth and Holly, he feels sick to his stomach when he sees what's left of them.

"Hey," Stiles greets when he and Derek get within touching distance.

Derek butts his head against Stiles' stomach affectionately.

Now that their goal has been achieved and they're safe again, the pain in Stiles' arm and head are catching up to him. His fingers tangle in the soft fur of Derek's side as he tries to keep himself standing.

Derek, sensing his mate's increasing fatigue, worries for a second about what he should do. He doesn't want to give Stiles back his magic just yet because he thinks that would result in him returning to standing on two legs, without any clothes, and being seen like that by Charlie and Jordan isn't ideal. The only option left to him soon becomes clear, and he lowers himself down and looks back over his shoulder pointedly, whining imploringly for Stiles to climb up and hold on as best he can. He's pleased when Stiles does just that, understanding what he means without a second's hesitation because they're still so connected to each other.

He trusts that Parrish and Chris will take good care of his betas and Charlie in his absence. His mate takes priority, so he raises himself back up and sets off at a slow pace back to the house. The trip doesn't take very long, and it's just five minutes later that he's letting Stiles slip off of his back to open the door.

It's a bit of a squeeze for Derek to get through it and into the foyer, but he manages.

Now that he's in the relative seclusion of his and Stiles' home, he feels comfortable allowing Stiles' magic to return to its owner. On the journey, it was trying to do just that, probably because its purpose had been served, but he held on to it tightly. It didn't put up much of a fight, a response for which he was grateful. As soon as the last vestige of Stiles' magic is gone from his body, he begins the change back to human, fur receding and bones breaking and reforming.

As soon as he's standing up straight again, he takes Stiles in his arms and holds onto him tightly but gently, very much aware of what he thinks is the boy's broken arm. Stiles grips him back just as hard.


	24. Amends

They stay that way for several long minutes, revelling in the fact that they both made it out of the fight unscathed, for the most part. They're still alive to see another day, at least. Eventually, Derek takes one last long comforting whiff of Stiles' scent—his nose is buried in the boy's hair, tickling his nostrils—before releasing him. "I'm gonna go get washed up real quick and then we'll see about getting you to the hospital so someone can look at that arm, OK?" he assures, pressing his lips to Stiles' forehead before dashing up the stairs to their bedroom and on into their en suite bathroom. The mirror is still smashed, but he pays it no mind because he doesn't really need it. He can fix it at a later time.

While he waits, Stiles meanders through to the living room and gapes at what he finds.

Parrish wasn't kidding earlier when he said he found the room in flames, and Stiles feels a large sense of responsibility and guilt that he accidentally burned up a part of Derek's life once more. The feeling is quickly brushed aside with a shake of his head, though, because he knows it's just old insecurities trying to rear their ugly heads again. Derek won't blame him, just like he didn't blame him for the loft.

His mate is wonderful like that.

Just as he's about to go back to the foyer, a noise in the kitchen catches his attention.

He turns in that direction and walks toward it cautiously, wondering what could have caused it. The person with whom he's greeted makes him grin widely. "Cora!" he exclaims when he sees the youngest Hale rummaging through the cupboards and clutching a newly opened box of Pop Tarts in her hand.

The girl turns around at the call of her name. "Dude, what the hell happened to you? And to this place?" she asks as Stiles rushes over and pulls her into a hug that she begrudgingly returns after a second of shock. She's never been one for displays of physical affection—her little tryst with Charlie in Jungle notwithstanding. The boy positively reeks of magic, a scent she's fast becoming familiar with, and blood, and she pats him awkwardly on the back a couple of times before forcing him to finally relinquish his hold around her body.

"Uhh...that's a long story," Stiles replies, still smiling.

"Well, I-"

A second later, Derek enters the room, freshly showered, and stops when he sees his sister standing there, alive and well. He takes a shaky breath before rushing forward and pulling her into another hug, and Stiles has a clear view of her face over the man's shoulder. She tries to look annoyed but he can see the corner of her mouth twitching like she wants to smile. He kind of feels like an intruder on a private moment, but neither of the Hales complain about his being there so he stays in the background, looking inward and focusing on his bond to Derek. He feels fresh relief from the alpha that Cora is no longer dead, and it warms his own heart all over again. His throat feels dry—probably because he inhaled a bunch of dust when he was blasted through the concrete training room ceiling—so he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge to remedy this problem. He has to unscrew the cap with his teeth because he still only has one useable arm, and when he gets it open he swirls some of the cold liquid around his mouth to get rid of the chalky taste. He spits it out in the sink before drinking down another couple of mouthfuls with the desperation of a severely dehydrated man, his body thanking him when it comes to sit heavily in his otherwise empty stomach.

That reminds him:

They'll have to stop off somewhere after the hospital to get something to eat.

"OK, seriously, what's with all this touchy-feely shit?" Cora demands when she finally extricates herself from her brother's embrace. "You're actually starting to freak me out here."

"What do you remember?" Derek asks, blinking away moisture from his eyes. He frowns when Cora just shakes her head, indicating that she remembers nothing. _Perhaps that's for the best_ , he muses as he takes a Pop Tart from the box still in her hand and eats it in almost one bite. Transforming into a wolf has really left him feeling famished, so much so that the fact that he doesn't usually like the sugary treats doesn't matter.

Stiles hands over the remainder of his water to Derek when he sees the man glancing at it with want clear in his eyes, and he fails to stop the wince that contorts his face when the movement disturbs the arm he still has in a sling. "Can we continue this conversation later, maybe after I've got my arm in a cast?" he pleads, feeling grateful when Derek immediately drops the water bottle and begins siphoning off his pain, black veins crawling up his muscular arm. "Thanks..." A few seconds later, Derek is guiding him with a hand on the small of his back toward the front door and outside to his black Camaro, Cora trailing behind curiously.

The journey to the hospital is a short one.

Derek speeds them there because he wants to get his mate some pain relief that doesn't rely on constant physical contact, not that he would mind that. He just knows it would get a little inconvenient after a while.

Their timing is apparently perfect because as soon as they enter the building they find Melissa McCall standing right by the front desk, poring over some paperwork. The woman looks up at the new arrivals and her eyes widen when she sees the rough state Stiles is in. "Oh my God, honey!" she gasps, dropping the papers without a second glance and rushing over to the trio, her motherly instincts kicking in full force. She wraps an arm around Stiles' shoulders and leads him down the hall. "What on earth happened to you?"

"That's a story best told without a big audience, Melissa," Derek interrupts, coughing awkwardly as they pass a doctor heading in the other direction, back the way they just came. He sticks close to Stiles protectively, his wolf protesting if he gets more than three feet away. "He has a broken arm and a possible concussion."

Stiles wishes that Derek wouldn't talk as if he's not there.

He gets why but it's still annoying.

Melissa nods her understanding and refrains from giving voice to any of the numerous other questions she still has. She brings the group to an empty room off one of the quieter halls and instructs Stiles to take a seat on the bed while she goes and gets the supplies she'll need for a cursory examination. "Be back in a minute," she assures, patting Stiles a couple of times on his shoulder before leaving the room again.

Being in Beacon Hills Memorial does things to Stiles' stomach that he doesn't like. It turns unpleasantly as memories assault his mind that he can't shake off, of his mother's frail body and the bloody massacre the Oni and the Nogitsune perpetrated while wearing his face. It was lucky for him that no one was left to point their fingers in his direction, and he immediately feels guilty for the thought. Hospitals are just not a place he ever wants to be, he decides, vowing to never return to one—at least this one—if he can help it.

"Fat chance," he scoffs, ignoring the confused looks he gets from both Hales.

Taking the empty spot next to his mate, Derek eyes everything in the room cautiously, like he suspects there may be something around that will bring more harm to the boy. He still feels restless, high on adrenaline, and he guesses that it's going to take a while for him to calm down and for the fact that Elizabeth and Holly are dead and gone to properly sink in. The room unsurprisingly stinks of medicine, a smell that can easily make him feel sick, and he discreetly turns his head to the side so that he gets more of Stiles' familiar scent in his nose instead. It's a much better option in his mind, and it helps to settle his wolf a bit.

"You're seriously still not going to tell me what's happened?" Cora complains a minute later, pacing.

"Wait for Melissa to get back," Derek counters with a flash of his eyes.

Cora growls quietly before acquiescing.

Stiles smiles.

A minute later, Melissa reenters the room and pulls up a chair so that she can sit directly opposite Stiles. "Alright, honey, let's get you taken care of..." she says gently. She starts by carefully untying the sling still keeping his arm relatively secure and prods at it gently. Her manner becomes distinctly more professional, her medical training taking over. She's very much aware that Derek watches her every move warily, and she resists shaking her head in exasperation at the overprotective alpha wolf. "Yup, definitely broken. We'll do an x-ray to get a better idea of how bad it is, but it'll definitely need to be in a cast for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months, depending." Next she removes the makeshift bandage from around his head and examines the cut on the upper left side of his forehead, determining that it's just a small one which thankfully won't need stitches. There's a nasty-looking bump beneath it, though, which worries her a little, so she runs through a short list of the typical symptoms of a concussion and frowns when an alarming number of them end up with a tick next to them. A concussion is definitely on the cards, by the looks of things, just like Derek thought.

She adds a CT scan to the list of tests she'll be overseeing later, oblivious to the way Stiles' eyes widen at the mere mention of one. "Right, is there anything else I need to look at, anything else that hurts?"

"My ribs hurt a little, but that's about it," Stiles answers nervously, resting his arm tentatively on his left thigh. He breathes a sigh of relief when the expected twinge of pain doesn't come, and when he feels Derek's hand on his right shoulder he realises just why that is. He pats the man's knee gratefully.

"Alright, I don't think it's a good idea for you to take your shirt off normally until we know that there's no major damage with your ribs, so I'm going to have to cut it..." Melissa says offhandedly, getting up briefly to look for her scissors. She sighs at the pointlessness of her search when she turns around and sees that Derek has already taken care of it with one of his claws, but her mild annoyance quickly dissipates when she sees the painful-looking purple colour that Stiles' left side is slowing turning.

The boy looks down himself when he sees Melissa's expression and isn't surprised by what he finds.

Derek is also concerned but keeps it to himself.

After some more prodding on her part and wincing on Stiles', Melissa comes to the conclusion that none of his ribs are broken, just badly bruised. "We'll wrap them just in case, though, and that should help them heal," she says. "We'll do the x-ray and the cast first and get those out of the way, and then move on to your ribs and head, OK?" She gets to her feet and urges Stiles to do the same. Cora announces that she's going to go and wait in the waiting room, so it's just Derek that accompanies them to the elevator. Melissa makes sure the test is done as fast as possible and a few minutes later she has the resulting image. "It looks like a simple fracture. I don't think we'll have to do anything to it before casting it up, which is good news."

Melissa enlists the help of a doctor to do the cast while she goes and gets the CT scan sorted. There's no one else scheduled to have one that day, so it's completely free for them to use, thankfully. Because of this, the technologist whose job it is to run the machine isn't in the hospital that day, but after phoning him up and calling in the favour he owes her, it's all taken care of and he's on his way.

Stiles' red cast is all put on half an hour later, and the doctor—Dr. Martin, he says his name is—instructs him to be careful with it for the next couple of days because it'll take that long for it to harden fully.

His ribs are then wrapped up tightly, which oddly enough makes it easier for him to breathe, and then the doctor is leaving and Melissa is coming back to get him. He feels extreme anxiety as he walks toward the scan room because of what happened the last time he went in there, when the Nogitsune took control of him again.

Fidgeting nervously outside of the door, he enters tentatively after Melissa and changes into the hospital gown when the woman graciously turns her back to give him some semblance of privacy. Derek has to help him take off his chinos because he can't get the button through the hole with just one working hand, which he finds a little mortifying, but he doesn't comment on it. Derek then helps him lie back in place, and he knows that the man can tell how scared he is because he can hear his own heart beating in his ears, and if he can hear it, then Derek definitely can. Sure enough, the wolf looks at him with concern as he leaves the room with Melissa.

"Are you sure I can't be in there with him?" Derek asks when the door is shut.

"I'm afraid not, Derek. It would be dangerous," Melissa replies softly.

Derek sighs and waits impatiently.

Lying there still as stone, Stiles tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn't think he has a concussion—even though he apparently ticked enough of the boxes to have Melissa worried, he feels fine otherwise. Because she would obviously know better than him, though, he doesn't say anything when the machine whirrs to life and he begins moving backward into the gantry. He faintly hears the technologist talking him through it, telling him to stay as still as possible—not a problem, he thinks—before the noise of the machine drowns the man's tinny voice out. The sound of it moving as it scans him is exactly the same as last time, though he thinks it may only sound as loud as it does because he's so focused on it. It's the only thing he has to occupy his mind and he tries to make of game of counting all of the noises as the scan continues. It seems to last forever until he mercifully hears the whirring sound ease off and the tray he's lying on moves back and out of the gantry. Derek is there instantly to help him sit up. The wolf murmurs nonsensical assurances at him for a while, and while he doesn't catch any of the words, the soothing tone of Derek's voice is comforting nevertheless.

"Are you alright?" Melissa asks Stiles confusedly as she enters the room through the door Derek left open. During the scan, Derek had been stood right outside of it, glaring with such intensity that she honestly thought for a second that the wood would burst into flames. As soon as she gave the all-clear for him to open it, he was on one side of it one second and in the next he was standing right beside Stiles.

"Fine..." Stiles hiccups meekly. Because his left arm is out of commission, he has to twist his body around awkwardly so he can take one of Derek's hands in his right. He calms himself with the familiar touch.

Melissa hums thoughtfully.

"Are you sure? You look awfully pale..." she presses.

Sighing, Stiles gets off of the table and onto the cool floor with Derek's help. "It's just...a little weird being back in here after what happened the last time," he explains as casually as he can manage as he looks around for his clothes. He finds them folded up neatly on a bench that's pressed up against one of the walls and walks over to them purposefully, with the intent of putting them back on. After his admittance he feels naked enough, emotionally speaking, and being physically so any longer seems impossible to him now. He wants to cover himself up again so that the vulnerability of his physical nudity is gone, and he sighs defeatedly when he steps into his chinos and realises he can't pull them up.

Derek has to help him again.

The thought that Stiles might feel discomfort didn't even cross Melissa's mind—perhaps she's become too desensitised—but now what Stiles is talking about seems glaringly obvious and she doesn't know how she didn't realise it before. "You should've told me!" she fusses as she takes over from Derek to button up the boy's flannel overshirt. It's a lucky thing for him that he always wears two, she thinks, since it now preserves his modesty somewhat. "I could've given you a mild sedative or something to help you keep calm."

"It's fine; it's done now anyway," Stiles dismisses as he struggles to get his sleeve to fit around his cast. He gives up in the end and settles for having the material awkwardly bunched up around the top of the plaster. "So...what were the results? Concussion or no?"

Melissa smiles kindly. "You don't have a concussion after all," she replies happily as she opens the door and brings Stiles and Derek back through the halls to the room they were in before. "Now, I think we've got all of your injuries sorted out and you should be able to go home and heal there, but I'm going to give you a little something that'll help you get to sleep. Your ribs will probably make it difficult otherwise."

She turns and rummages through a bag that has seemingly appeared from nowhere.

Derek watches her carefully.

"Ah, morphine, my old friend..." Stiles comments as Melissa comes back with a syringe and a small bottle of the stuff. He dutifully lets Derek roll up his sleeve, holds out his right arm and looks away as she administers the shot, screwing up his nose when the needle enters his skin. Another couple of seconds later it's done and he feels something wet swipe over the spot the needle just was before a small cotton ball is taped over it. He looks down and examines it with mild interest before rolling his sleeve back down to cover it. "We all set?"

"Yes," Melissa chirps, disposing of the syringe. "It'll kick in after a few minutes, so I'd recommend going right to bed when you get home." Her eyes flick over to Derek pointedly and stay there.

"I'll make sure of it," Derek says dutifully, helping Stiles to his feet.

"Try not to get hurt again anytime soon, OK?" Melissa begs as she pulls Stiles into a hug.

"I'll try," the boy promises.

A minute later, Melissa accompanies them back through to the waiting room, where Cora is sitting looking bored. She bids them farewell before getting back to her shift, picking up the paperwork she'd left when the group first came in. As they leave the building and get out into the chilly darkening evening, like Melissa warned, Stiles begins to feel the effects of morphine quite intensely. He sways a little as he walks across the parking lot to Derek's car, and he'd probably actually fall over if Derek didn't have an arm around his shoulders to keep him upright. "This is like, super trippy," he mumbles to no one in particular as he's pushed into the passenger seat and fumbles with the seatbelt. He feels like he's floating and spends the entire drive back home staring out of his window at everything that blurs past in the street lights like he's never seen any of it before. When the car lurches to a stop in front of the house, he doesn't notice Derek and Cora opening their doors and getting out and jumps when his own door is opened, even though he had his face pressed against the glass and should have seen Derek reaching for the handle on the other side. He tumbles out.

"OK, let's try to get you inside without breaking another bone, hmm?" Derek says with fond exasperation when Stiles leans heavily into his side. He grunts and purses his lips to stop himself from smiling when he feels Stiles' right hand grab and squeeze his ass appreciatively. He slaps the touch away. "Stop that!"

"You're so mean!" Stiles whines pathetically.

Cora rolls her eyes and shuts the front door behind them before stalking up to her room, not in the mood to deal with any more of Stiles' drug-addled antics. The boy is bad enough when he's completely sober.

Parrish and Chris come through from the kitchen, no doubt having heard their arrival. They both have a mug of steaming coffee in their hands, and they nod at Derek as he ushers Stiles up the stairs after Cora, intent on getting the boy tucked into bed so he can sleep off the pain medication Melissa gave him. He wonders briefly where the rest of the pack have gotten to before he opens the door to the master bedroom and gets his answer.

He finds them all gathered in there, the majority of them piled on the bed.

Allison and Erica are among them.

"Stiles!" Isaac shouts excitedly as he gets up and rushes over to give the human teen a hug.

To stop the beta from pouncing on Stiles and knocking him to the floor, Derek flashes his eyes and brings him to a skidding halt. He ignores the confused and puppy-eyed look Isaac shoots him in return. "Be careful!" he warns, walking his mate further into the room and helping him to take a seat at the head of the bed when Danny graciously moves aside to make room for him. "He's on some pretty heavy-duty pain meds, but he still has bruised ribs and a broken arm, so don't try just yet to climb all over him like you normally would, OK? It'll take at least a couple of weeks until he's healed up enough for that again, if not longer. What are you guys doing here anyway?"

"Well, Chris and Parrish told us you two were OK, but we wanted to see it with our own eyes, so...we waited here for you to get back from the hospital," Isaac answers as he shifts around a little bit, taking a spot on the bed next to Danny. It's cramped but he doesn't care at all.

After he takes his own seat next to Stiles, Derek rolls his eyes and huffs out a put-upon sigh when the boy immediately tries to climb over into his lap, gangly limbs flying everywhere because the morphine Melissa gave him has apparently served to exacerbate his clumsiness as well as alleviate any potential pain. Dutifully, he wraps an arm around Stiles' waist and helps him to get settled in hopes of avoiding being kneed in the crotch or something even worse.

It wouldn't be the first time, unfortunately.

"Is he...high?" Erica asks from across the room, one eyebrow raised as a devious smile appears on her lips. She's not deterred even when Derek narrows his eyes at her and his mouth thins. In fact, her smile widens into a grin as she watches Stiles look around the room with apparent wonder, uncharacteristically oblivious to the fact that the current topic of conversation is him. "Because that could make for an interesting evening, I have to say. Much fun to be had." Everyone else—barring Derek—gets similar expressions on their faces.

"I did say 'heavy-duty pain meds', didn't I?" Derek responds testily, not at all liking the look he sees on all of his betas' faces. They can only mean bad things are coming his and Stiles' way.

Stepping away from where she leans against Stiles and Derek's small bookcase, Erica uncrosses her arms and approaches the bed, ignoring the way Derek continues to glare at her. "So, Stiles, I have a few questions I've been meaning to ask you for a while now," she begins, still unable to wipe the evil grin from her lips.

Having grown bored of looking at everything in the room and only realising that someone is speaking to him when his name is spoken a second time, Stiles extricates his face from where he has tucked it into Derek's neck and blinks blearily over at Erica. He makes a curious sound and smacks his lips, the drugs he's on making it difficult for his eyes to adjust. The blonde looks like a blur for a few seconds before her face swims into focus, and he frowns in concern when he sees the way she stares right back with excited intensity. "'Sup?" he chirps, sliding off of Derek's lap again and falling off to the side, onto his own space on the bed.

"Well..." Erica crows, averting her eyes for a second like she suddenly feels shy.

No one but Stiles is fooled.

"I was wondering, and I know a lot of the others are as well, just how our dear alpha is in the sack," she continues, grin back in full force when she hears Derek's heartbeat suddenly increase in speed. "It's super important that we know, you see. Life or death and whatnot." Stiles doesn't seem to realise that there's anything wrong with the question, and she perks up when the boy opens his mouth as if to answer.

Unfortunately for her—and Lydia and Danny, who also showed interest—before Stiles can get a word out, Derek covers the lower half of his face with a hand. "Alright, that's enough!" the man barks, the tips of his ears turning pink. "All of you get out now, please! You should go home anyway." He doesn't release Stiles from his hold, not even when he feels a tongue lick a series of wet stripes across his palm. The boy doesn't seem to mind it that much, apparently perfectly content to settle back into him, Erica's question thankfully forgotten.

"I mean it!" Derek warns when no one moves to leave.

"Ugh, fine! You're such a spoilsport..." Erica relents disappointedly.

One by one, the betas trickle out of the room, leaving Derek and Stiles alone. Isaac is predictably the last to leave, nuzzling quickly into both of the alpha couple's shoulders before dashing away to follow Danny back downstairs. "Finally, some peace and quiet..." Derek says under his breath as he finally takes his hand off of Stiles' mouth and wipes it on the bedding to rid it of the boy's saliva. He guesses that Stiles will be OK if left on his own for a few minutes and retreats to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed. The minty freshness of toothpaste is a vast improvement to the faint taste of Elizabeth's and Holly's blood he's had on his tongue ever since he ripped them both to pieces, and he groans quietly to himself out of relief when relieving himself in the toilet bowl. After stripping out of all of his clothes apart from his boxer-briefs and switching off the light, he reenters the bedroom and finds Stiles exactly where he left him, lounging at the head of the bed. The boy smiles at him brightly when he comes back into view, and he can't help but return it as he steps closer to help him out of his clothes as well. He guesses that Stiles will be fine without showering for just one night.

Once he has his mate stripped down to his underwear, too, Derek switches the main light off, walks around to his own side of the bed and gets beneath the covers. He frowns when Stiles just stares at him instead of settling down as well. "What's wrong?" he asks, pillowing his head on his arm.

Stiles tilts his head to the side speculatively before answering, his eyes slightly unfocused in the low light of Derek's bedside lamp. He doesn't realise that the man has spoken for a few seconds and then his brain catches up. His mind still feels foggy because of the morphine, but he has just enough brain power left to register the question and come up with a suitable answer.

"You're super pretty..." he mumbles, reaching out with a shaky hand.

Keeping cautiously still, Derek flinches when it smacks against the side of his face, a little more roughly than Stiles probably intended because of his drug-induced stupor. He doesn't know how to respond to the compliment so he just stays silent and stares back in confusion when his mate starts petting him like a dog. "Uh, what are you doing?" he asks, blinking dumbly when he hears Stiles begin to hum some unfamiliar tune under his breath and moving backward out of Stiles' range when the boy just keeps stroking across his cheek without replying. He doesn't get very far, though.

Stiles follows with a pout and makes a quiet, displeased sound, his right hand wrapping around the back of Derek's neck to keep him in place and his casted left arm scraping against the wolf's ribs.

"No!" he whines, drawing out the word like a child. "You need lovins!"

"I need what?" Derek deadpans.

"Lovins!"

Derek huffs out an annoyed breath as he rolls over onto his back and allows Stiles to continue molesting him and whatever else he wants. The only thing he does to participate is to hold carefully on to the boy's broken arm with his right hand so that he doesn't accidentally hurt himself any further.

"Mmm...my snuggly wolf!" Stiles giggles, trying to wedge his other arm beneath Derek's body and grab a handful of his ass again. He's oblivious to the raucous cackling that's currently happening on the other side of the closed bedroom door, and of the way Derek glares daggers at it and sends out an angry thought to get the soundproofing to work, effectively saving himself from any more embarrassment. Stiles rubs his face against the dark hair on Derek's chest and purrs when the man's left hand strokes down his back.

A few seconds later, the laughter from out in the hall tapers off and put-out murmurs follow.

Derek smirks, happy to have deprived who he thinks is Erica of any more eavesdropping. He thinks briefly that he'll have to give the girl yet another talking to the next day, bringing her total to six. She'll probably never stop being a mischievous little shit, but he's not going to be the one to call it quits first. Stiles' hand groping the top of his ass and making a quiet noise of distress brings him back inside the room.

"What exactly are you doing?" he asks.

"I was looking for your tail 'cause it's so fluffy, but I can't find it..." the boy whimpers sadly, stopping his nuzzling to stare up at Derek with suddenly wet eyes. "Where'd it go? Did it fall off?"

"Uhh, no?" Derek answers, his body shaking gently as he tries to stop himself from laughing. He lets go of Stiles' broken arm now that it looks like he's settled and isn't in danger of hurting himself and brushes his thumbs across the boy's cheeks, catching the two drops of moisture that have fallen. "I only have a tail when I'm in my wolf form, remember? The one you helped me with? I'm human again now, so no tail for you. It's nothing to cry over, love." Honestly, he thinks it's kind of adorable, and his body stops shaking as he calms down again and a fond smile appears on his lips as he watches Stiles try really hard to understand his words.

His eyes no longer shining from tears, Stiles pouts a little before resting his cheek back on Derek's furry chest. "Oh... That's a shame. I wanted to cuddle it... 'S fluffy," he mumbles, wiggling in place a little to get more comfortable. The sheets are trapped beneath his left hip but he can't be bothered to free them.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to settle for cuddling my human body," Derek says.

Stiles' response is a quiet snore.

 _Sleep well, you little idiot_ , Derek thinks, closing his own eyes.

* * *

_\- Thursday, September 27th, 2012 -_

The next morning finds Stiles and Derek standing in the bathroom. The alpha wears a frown on his face as he stares into the shower stall, and Stiles waits behind him and rolls his eyes. "Can we hurry this along, please? I feel really gross and I'd _really_ like to get clean already," he says, breaking the silence. The morphine has all left his system overnight and his mind is now completely clear, which is both a good and a bad thing. The good of it is that he can think clearly, and the way Derek kept glancing over at him while they lay in bed earlier led him to the conclusion that he must have said some pretty colourful things while he was still feeling loopy. The bad is that he can feel every bruise and sore muscle of his body, and his broken arm twinges painfully whenever he forgets about it and moves it too quickly. There are still traces of dirt and dust on his arms, face and neck and blood dried in his hair from the previous afternoon's battle, and all of it makes his skin itch unpleasantly. He taps his foot while he waits, and if he had a watch on his wrist he'd be looking down at it to check just how long Derek has been standing in front of him, doing nothing. "Seriously, Der, what's the hold-up?"

"I'm thinking..." the man replies quietly, glancing back over his shoulder. A second later he turns and walks right past Stiles and out through the door, telling the boy to stay there while he goes to collect a couple of things. After a quick trip down to the kitchen he returns holding a couple of plastic bags and a roll of duct tape. "Hold out your arm. We've got to wrap the cast to stop it from getting wet."

Doing just that, Stiles waits patiently as Derek works, and as soon as the last strip of tape is stuck down—he knows pulling it off later is going to be a bitch—he's tearing off his underwear and entering the shower.

Following his mate, Derek turns on the water and holds his hand under the spray to gauge the temperature, only stepping aside when it heats up to what he thinks is the right level. He keeps the process quick and efficient, taking over with pleasure all of the things Stiles cannot do himself.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Stiles asks.

Derek freezes for a second, his hands hovering over wet, pale skin.

"Yeah, you're enjoying this."

Shaking his head, Derek resumes soaping up Stiles' back. He can practically hear the smirk in the boy's voice. "Am I that obvious?" he responds quietly, his own lips curving into a smile when Stiles hums his affirmative. They both lapse back into silence for the remainder of the shower, and if his mate cottons on to the fact that he's prolonging it a little, keeping his movements slow and unhurried, he is glad that Stiles doesn't comment on it. His hair is the last thing to be washed, and Derek tips Stiles' head back as he massages the shampoo into the silky strands and scratches his short nails gently against his scalp.

He feels arousal stirring in his gut at the quiet noise of ecstasy Stiles lets out, but he doesn't pay it any attention. "There, all done," he says when the last of the lather is washed down the drain and Stiles' body is completely clean and smelling of cinnamon. He fits the shower head back into its holder and wraps his arms around the boy from behind, nuzzling into the side of his neck with a short growl.

"You OK there, Sourwolf?" Stiles asks with a hint of laughter, tilting his head to the side to give Derek better access and linking their fingers together where they rest over his stomach.

Derek's answer is just to growl again, this one sounding less urgent. It's softer, more contented.

Stiles chuckles. "You're adorable."

* * *

Later, once Derek and Stiles are both dried off and dressed in fresh clothes—Derek in a pair of jeans and a deep purple tank top that stretches ridiculously across his broad chest, and Stiles in a pair of blue chinos and one of Derek's old shirts, soft and baggy on his frame—they leave the solitude of their bedroom and go downstairs.

The sight of the living room is quite shocking in the light of day.

They were both too caught up in their relief that Cora was alive again—and later on, Stiles was too out of it and Derek was too busy trying to keep him on his feet—to really see it properly before. Now, though, they both see every detail, from the blackened sofa and carpet to the piles of ash they think used to be books. All of the DVD and Blu-ray cases are mangled and the discs themselves don't look like they'll play ever again. Nothing in the room looks salvageable, and Stiles swallows down his guilt when Derek steps away from him to look at it all more closely, knowing once more that the feeling is useless.

Eventually, when the acrid smell of it becomes too much, Derek leaves the room behind him and goes into the kitchen instead, aware that Stiles is following him. He gets out two bowls, an opened box of Cheerios, two spoons, and the milk from the fridge before settling in at the island to eat his breakfast. "What happened in there?" he asks in between mouthfuls when Stiles takes the stool next to him.

"You remember that vision you came with me on?" the boy starts.  


Derek nods.

"Well, just as I was leaving to catch up with you guys, let's just say that I got split in half or something. Like, the darkness Elizabeth tainted my magic with turned into that other version of me, the one that looked like I did when I was possessed by the Nogitsune," Stiles continues, keeping his eyes on his bowl for the most part. He glances up at Derek every couple of seconds, though, to keep track of how the alpha is taking his recounting. "I knew I'd have to beat it if I wanted to get to you—talk about battling your inner demons, huh?—and the living room kinda got fucked up by a poorly aimed fireball. There's also a massive hole a little ways outside, on the edge of the back yard, from where I got uppercutted through the ceiling of the basement."

He hastens to clarify when Derek's eyes widen in shock. "Don't worry, I'm fine! I'd done that thing you told me Landon did when you tried to avenge Jeremy's murder, so I came out of that with just a broken arm."

Allowing the tension to seep out of his body, Derek sighs in relief and finishes the last of his breakfast, holding the rim of the bowl up to his lips and drinking down the sweetened milk left at the bottom. "Don't worry about it. We can get it all fixed up again and it'll be looking good as new in no time."

"True dat," Stiles chuckles.

"You're an idiot..." Derek sighs, shaking his head.

"And you, my gorgeous hunk of a man, _love_ it." They kiss chastely.

The next couple of hours are spent clearing everything out of the living room. After Derek goes and gets a large skip—he refuses to answer when Stiles hounds him about where he got it from—he glares the boy into submission and, after Stiles seems adamant about watching, makes him sit and stay on a stool he brings through from the kitchen—"Don't try to deprive me of a chance to see you all sweaty, Der. That wouldn't be very nice." He doesn't want Stiles to accidentally screw up his arm or put any unnecessary strain on his bruised ribs, especially not since he'll have his hands full and won't be able to siphon off any of the pain. Isaac and Danny make a reappearance when he's about halfway through, and they make the rest of the process speed along much faster. Before they know it, the carpet has been pulled and rolled up, with Danny carrying it outside, and Isaac is sweeping up the last of the ash from the hardwood floor beneath. There is some fire damage to the boards, too, but Derek thinks that if he sands them down a bit they might not need to be replaced—he'll figure it out later. Perhaps he'll leave it like that. He has always liked the idea of having hardwood floors.

When the house was first built, his decision to have carpet instead was to distinguish it a bit more from how the room used to look, his old hangups from the fire preventing him from feeling comfortable with having things too similar. Since he started working through more of his emotions and fears with the help of Sheila Morris, his mom's old therapist, he knows he can handle it now.

"So what're you gonna do until you get this place redone?" Danny asks as he comes back inside, brushing his hands together to rid them of the ash he got on them from carrying the rolled-up carpet.

Derek hums thoughtfully before coming to a decision.

"It won't take very long, but in the mean time I'll just take a couple of mattresses from your rooms and use those," he says with a smile, heading through to the foyer and ascending the stairs to do just that. He returns a minute later carrying them over his shoulder, not even breaking a sweat, much to Stiles' disappointment.

He tosses them down in the centre of the bare living room floor with two dull thumps.

"Lydia will love that," Danny smirks.

"All the better." Derek bumps fists obligingly with the Hawaiian.

* * *

Said girl shows up at the house with the rest of the pack in tow a couple of hours after Derek, Stiles and the two betas get settled. All of them but Stiles are a little sweaty now—which made Stiles happy, in Derek's case—because, since they were already doing some renovations, Derek suggested that they finally take care of the blood-stained carpet upstairs in his and Stiles' room. The idea was met with a few reservations because it would be more difficult to get everything out of the way to pull the carpet up, but with all the wolves working together it didn't actually take that long. The bed frame was the most tricky thing to take care of—Derek didn't want to go through the trouble of disassembling it when he'll just be putting it back together shortly, but he relented and went to get his tools when a quick calculation told him that there was no possible way it would fit through the doorway.

"You fancy hardwood floors in here, too?" Derek asked Stiles when the carpet was all gone. The floorboards beneath the blood patch were also stained darker than the surrounding ones, so he hopes replacing them will be reasonably easy if necessary. "It would save us having to vacuum the carpet every week."

Stiles hums thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think that'd be nice."

Derek smiles.

He follows the boy back downstairs, where Danny and Isaac are.

As soon as Lydia walks through the front door and sees what awaits her, she stops in her tracks and eyes the living room's new minimalist decor with disgust. Derek and Stiles are reclined on one of the mattresses, the boy's head pillowed once more on the alpha's chest, while Danny and Isaac are sat side by side on the other, playing a series of games of Rock-Paper-Scissors. "You don't honestly expect me to sit on one of those, do you?" she asks haughtily, storming right past Derek and on into the kitchen when the man nods.

Everyone else but Allison gathers in the living room without complaint. Scott sits on the floor and takes a lengthly inhale for dramatic effect before speaking. "Deaton is safe, by the way," he announces, looking pleased with himself when Derek and Stiles both perk up. "Yeah, I got him out earlier today after I remembered what Elizabeth said about keeping him in her basement. He's doing good, I think."

"Oops..." Stiles whispers contritely. With everything else that was going on, he'd completely forgotten that the vet was being held captive. "Is he mad that we left him there for so long?"

Scott shakes his head. "Nah, he understood when I told him what happened to you guys, so you're good," he replies, taking a steaming mug of coffee off of the tray that Allison brings into the room a second later. He takes his first sip gratefully, needing a dose of caffeine because he was up for most of the night, wired.

"Thank the Lord..." Stiles breathes.

The next second, all the betas' heads snap to the side and they all stare intently through the window.

"Uh, guys? What's with the meerkat impressions?" Stiles asks.

"Someone else is coming," Derek informs the boy, gently pushing him off so that he can sit up and watch the window with the rest of his pack. He waits on bated breath for the car he can hear approaching in the distance to get closer and come into view, and when it does he doesn't know what he feels. It's what he recognises as Elizabeth's car, and he can see Charlie sitting behind the steering wheel, fiddling nervously with her messy hair as she looks up at the house in obvious trepidation. "I wonder what she's doing here..."

When the girl exits her mother's car, he stands and walks to the front door, anticipating her knock. It comes a few seconds later and he reaches for and turns the handle to reveal her standing on the other side. She still looks scared and like she hasn't slept, but he doesn't change his stony expression, nor does he plan on doing so until he's given an explanation for her surprise appearance. "What do you want?" he enquires gruffly.

Stiles and the betas listen intently for Charlie's reply.

The girl takes a deep breath before opening her mouth. Her voice comes out shaky, but everyone can tell that she's trying to push through her nerves and knows that it must have taken a lot of courage to show her face again so soon. "I wanted to explain and apologise for everything that's happened," the girl says, holding her head high under Derek's unrelenting scrutiny. The previous afternoon's battle has changed something in her. She doesn't want to be weak any more or be made a victim ever again, so while she wants to be remorseful, she also wants to come across as strong, someone who's worthy of forgiveness. That much she allows herself to hope for. After a full ten seconds of them staring at each other without another word, Derek moves aside to let her in and she follows him through to the living room, a shocked gasp slipping out when she sees the state it's in. She chooses not to comment on it. Everyone eyes her suspiciously as she walks past them to stand in front of the burned fireplace and readies herself to begin, and she finds herself avoiding Jackson's and Scott's gazes, which are both particularly judgemental. "Right, so...I'm not really sure how to start this."

Taking pity on her, Stiles waits for Derek to retake his place beside him before clearing his throat. "Maybe if you tell everyone everything that led to you coming to town? I've already relayed everything you told me, but it'll probably sound better coming from you," he suggests, crossing his legs to get comfortable.

Everyone else stays quiet.

Stiles smiles encouragingly at Charlie.

"Um, s-sure..." she stutters, cursing herself for already crumbling under pressure. "I didn't know this part until a few days ago, but I guess it all started back when I was nine, with my dad's death."

Detail by detail, she recounts all of the events that brought her to Beacon Hills, from her mother's descent into dark magic to her dad's murder to all the lies she was fed and made to believe. She doesn't play anything up for sympathy, just tells it exactly as she remembers it. She knows she doesn't want to even try to manipulate Stiles' pack into forgiving her. If she's going to get it, it'll be genuine, because they want to.

And if not... She doesn't let her mind wander into that upsetting territory.

She looks out through the living room window, which for the most part seems to have miraculously survived whatever fire took out the rest of the room. The frames are blackened, but the glass looks fine, clear, if a bit ashy. "I don't know what my mom did to me—must've been some memory spell or something—but I didn't know about what really happened to my dad until she started telling me about it after I said I wanted out and all the memories came flooding back suddenly, like a series of photographs.

"And then she did that spell to me and actually physically made me do her bidding with a snap of her fingers..." She shudders at the memory, the feeling of true helplessness. "I didn't want to help her and Holly sap the Nemeton's powers, and I definitely didn't want to hurt any of you guys any more than I already had.

"But there was nothing I could to stop it." She faces the pack again. "I'm sorry."

Things are quiet for a while as everyone thinks over Charlie's story. Some of the pack members have looks of understanding on their faces, though she doesn't know whether to take that as a sign of her apology being accepted just yet. A couple of the others still look unsure, disbelieving. Jackson and Scott in particular seem to be holding on tightly to their anger, and she can't find it in herself to blame them. If their positions were reversed, she honestly doesn't know what her own reaction would be. She likes to think she'd be forgiving but knows she has a vengeful streak—evidenced by her willingness to help her mother at the start.

"I'm not buying it," Jackson says eventually, breaking the silence. He stands from his spot next to Lydia and glares at Charlie with open dislike. "One apology doesn't make up for everything you've done to us."

Scott nods along but doesn't speak.

Lydia doesn't try to silence her boyfriend. She looks dubious herself.

Charlie closes her eyes in defeat and doesn't bother trying to refute Jackson's hate-filled words.

It didn't take much for Stiles to be swayed definitively into the Forgiveness column, so he knows he has to say something to defend the girl. "Now, hold on, guys," he starts, getting to his own feet and walking over to stand next to Charlie in a show of support. She stares at him, wide-eyed, and he smiles back at her.

He returns his gaze to the rest of the pack. "I know it's difficult to get past all of that, and I don't really want to dredge all of this back up, but she's not the first person to hurt this pack that we've ended up forgiving," he points out, his eyebrows raised imploringly. "While he was a kanima, Jackson hurt and killed a bunch of people, some of whom I'd known for years from visiting my dad at the station.

"Allison helped her uncle kidnap and torture you two," he looks specifically at Erica and Boyd, who have remained silent, their faces impassive this whole time, "while she was still under the impression that Derek bit her mom deliberately. And let's not forget about everything _I_ did while the Nogitsune had control of my body, all the blood that's on _my_ hands, even if I had no say in the matter. You've managed to look past all of that and be friends with us again, so why is this any different? Sure, Charlie took part willingly in the beginning, but like she and I have said, she realised she wasn't doing the right thing eventually and tried to turn things around before her mom got her claws into her and stopped her from coming to us for help."

He feels relief when Jackson starts to look regretful.

"So, she's here now, saying that she's sorry and I believe her." He turns to the girl in question and happily announces, "I forgive you, Charlie," as he pulls her into a tight hug, hoping that it will get the ball rolling for the others to do the same. As he pulls back, he sees that Derek is now standing beside them.

Derek has never been close enough to Charlie to feel comfortable embracing the girl like his mate has just done, so he sticks out a hand for her to shake instead, a sign that he holds no grudges.

Stiles kisses him gratefully on the cheek when it's done.

His ears turn pink.

One by one, the rest of the pack get up from their various places around the room and follow Derek's lead, though somewhat more awkwardly—Jackson's handshake is especially painful to watch, and he keeps his eyes averted from Charlie the whole time before going back to sit down beside Lydia. Cora is the last one to approach Charlie, and they look at each other, silently communicating with nothing but their eyes before they hug. It's bittersweet for Cora because Charlie is the first person she's been attracted to in any way since she was saved from the Alpha Pack and she knows without having to ask that the other girl won't be sticking around. Everyone else looks away, feeling like continuing to look at the two of them would be an invasion of privacy. The two girls don't exchange any words as they step away from each other again, and before anyone else can say anything, Cora disappears from the room, retreating to the solitude of her bedroom to think. No one moves to try and give the youngest Hale any comfort, not even her brother because, even though they love each other, they're really not that close any more and he wouldn't know what to say.

The sound of her door slamming shut echoes down the stairs. It carries a sense of finality with it.

"Well...I guess there's not really anything left to say," Charlie says, breaking the silence and bringing everyone back into the room. "It was nice getting to know all of you, and once again, I'm sorry for my part. Maybe I'll see you again sometime. Until then: c'ya." She cuts through the crowd and walks back into the foyer, to the front door, and she almost gets her hand on the handle before she hears footsteps.

"Where will you go?" Stiles asks curiously after a pointed look back at his pack to get them to stay where they are. He sees Derek glare at them all to back him up before he turns back to hear Charlie's answer.

Her hand still hovering above the door handle, the girl smiles, touched that Stiles is still so concerned for her. "I looked through my mom's stuff after Mr. Argent accompanied me home and found her phone," she explains, finally touching the handle when her arm gets tired. "Apparently, my grandmother—my dad's mom—is still alive, another thing my mom lied to me about. I called her and told her everything that happened and she booked me the first flight out of here. It leaves later today. She used to live a couple of towns over from us back in Florida but she moved up to Canada after dad died and mom cut off all contact with her, so..."

"Oh..." Stiles says, unable to come up any other reply.

"Yeah, northern Saskatchewan, of all places."

"Don't freeze to death," Stiles warns with a short laugh, joking to mask his sadness.

Charlie smiles again, warmly. "I'll try not to. I'll get all my winter gear out," she promises, gasping in surprise when Stiles pulls her into another hug, this one much tighter. She doesn't know what to make of it, how to react other to wrap her own arms around the boy's body in return.

"Stay in touch, OK? I wanna know how you get on up there," he requests hoarsely, feeling stupid when his eyes start watering. They didn't know each other for that long a time but he still feels like he's losing someone important from his life, and he knows that he'll miss her a lot. After taking a few more seconds, he releases her and blinks rapidly. "Do you, uh...do you need a ride to the airport?"

Back in the living room, Jackson laughs derisively at Stiles' display of emotion. He deems it stupid and a little pathetic, but he shuts up quickly when Lydia slaps him up the back of his head and Derek growls at him threateningly, red eyes boring into his. He notices that everyone else is glaring at him, too—Scott and Isaac appear particularly annoyed with him—so he looks down at his lap and mimes zipping up his lips to get them all to stop. _He's got everyone wrapped around his finger... What an ass_ , he thinks.

"Nah, I got it," Charlie replies.

Nodding, Stiles steps back to allow the girl to open the door and finally take her leave. "Take care of yourself!" he shouts from the doorway as he watches her start up her mother's old car.

When she starts backing up and away, he waves and shuts the door after she's out of sight. He feels sad, so he clears his throat and tries to shake the feeling off because he doesn't want to bring everyone else down with him. They won yesterday's battle and they should be celebrating, and, as far as valedictions go, Charlie's was a pretty good one, he supposes. He's grateful that they were all able to part on good terms. After his eyes are dry he reenters the living room and smiles at everyone when they pretend like they weren't hanging on every word he and Charlie exchanged. "So, what do you guys feel like doing now?" he asks casually.

"Well, we've got almost four full days until school starts back up," Lydia reminds them all, tilting her head to the side contemplatively. She smiles when she comes up with what she thinks is the perfect idea. "Let's go out and grab some lunch, as a pack, if we can coax Cora out of her room again."


	25. Epilogue

After a long lunch with the pack—Cora eventually deigned to grace them again with her presence after much pestering—Stiles and Derek return to their home alone. Stiles isn't sad about it being just the two of them, though. Quite the contrary, in fact, it seems like the perfect turn of events to him. After how tiring the past couple of months have been, the last week especially, getting some downtime with his wonderful mate seems like just the remedy his exhausted body and soul need.

He collapses on the sofa with a grateful groan and rubs his distended stomach. "I'm never eating that much again..." he lies, his eyes slipping closed. "Why didn't you stop me after the second pancake?"

"I didn't want my hand bitten off," Derek replies.

"Isn't that your department?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek leaves Stiles where he is and goes into the kitchen. He switches on the kettle, intent on making them both a cup of tea with which they can wind down. The sound of talking filters through from the living room, sentences cutting off and new ones starting midway through every couple of seconds, and Derek assumes that Stiles has gotten restless already and is currently flicking through the TV channels out of boredom. He shakes his head as he gets two teabags and plops them in each mug before filling them both up near the brim with water. "Legs," he says when he returns, waiting for Stiles to get his feet off of the coffee table so that he can walk past and take his usual spot on the sofa next to the boy.

Stiles makes grabby hands for his mug and holds it gratefully between his palms to warm them. "Thanks," he says as he takes his first sip, going slow because it's still so hot. He smiles when the familiar taste of Sleepytime herbal tea hits his tongue. "You know me so well... Best mate ever."

The rest of the afternoon is spent in a similar fashion.

Neither one of them has enough energy to do anything else, and soon enough they both find themselves reclined across the length of the sofa, Derek on his back and Stiles on his right side, wedged between the back of the sofa and the wolf. It's a little weird because they're lying the opposite way round to how they normally do to save Stiles' broken arm from being crushed—he has it thrown across Derek's stomach instead.

Soon enough, after they've whiled away several hours and the sun is beginning to descend, the scenes playing out on screen lose Stiles' interest and his mind starts to wander to other things.

He goes back to the previous afternoon, to Derek's transformation and what little he remembers of it. "Can I see it?" he asks out of the blue, the words slipping out before he can stop them. It's too late to take them back—and he doesn't really want to anyway—so he picks his head up off of Derek's chest and peers down at the man's face. He finds his wolf staring back up at him with an eyebrow raised, clearly not understanding what he means. "Your new wolf form. Can I see it, now that I can actually focus on things properly?"

"Why?" Derek counters, reluctant to move.

"I'm curious." Stiles makes his eyes big and round as he begs. "Please?"

"You're such a child sometimes..."

Stiles ignores the comment and gladly levers himself up to sitting to allow his mate to get out from under him. He watches as Derek glances toward the open living room window and follows when the man suggests they take it upstairs to their bedroom, almost dancing around his heels in his excitement.

The door is firmly shut behind them and the curtains are subsequently pulled closed for privacy.

"Do you need my magic again?" Stiles asks after Derek has continued to stand at the window without doing anything for almost a full minute. When the wolf shakes his head and replies that he doesn't think so, Stiles takes a seat on the foot of the bed to watch the show, the best seat in the house, he mentally declares. The air is practically vibrating with nervous energy as Derek finally moves and begins to undress.

"No sense in destroying any more of my clothes..." the alpha mutters.

As Derek reaches for the hem of his Henley and pulls it off over his head, revealing his toned torso, he snorts when he hears Stiles wolf-whistle. When the garment is off completely, he balls it up and throws it at the boy's head, a pleased smirk appearing on his lips when Stiles keeps hold of it and smooths it out on his lap like it's precious to him. It makes him feel precious, too. Next go his jeans and socks, and he kicks them carelessly across the room without a second thought before curling his fingers around the waistband of his boxer-briefs. He keeps Stiles' eyes as he bends his knees and pushes this last piece of clothing down his legs, leaving him bared completely to the boy. He never stops getting a thrill out of the way Stiles looks at him when he's like this. His jocular mood, which served as a front for the nerves he feels, fades when he realises that he has no other steps with which to stall before he changes form. The first time wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, all of his bones breaking and reforming, so he's not eager to relive it. Even so, he takes a deep breath and reaches for the wolf inside, letting it come to the surface gradually.

Like before, his beta form comes on first, and after that, when it wants to keep going, he lets it. There is definitely pain there but it's surprisingly not as bad as it was the day before. The worst part is the initial breaking of his bones, but thanks to his werewolf healing it quickly passes.

The process is longer than he remembers.

He thinks there are two possible reasons for that: either it's because he doesn't have Stiles' magic infused into every cell of his body, helping him along, or he was too shocked the first time to pay proper attention to it all. As it is, this time he knows every little detail that changes, every new hair that grows from his skin to form fur, every tooth that becomes more pointed, more deadly, his tail as it sprouts from his tailbone. By the end, he's left panting as his stands on four legs, the floorboards feeling extra smooth beneath his paws.

Stiles is equally as breathless. He's entranced by Derek's transformation, watching as he falls from two limbs to four as his body changes. Oddly enough, it's still not scary to him and, when it's over, he just has to stand from his seat on the bed to get a closer look. Derek's shirt falls to the floor unnoticed, and he's careful as he sinks to his knees in front of his mate's new form.

Derek doesn't know how to interpret Stiles' silence.

The fact that the boy didn't go screaming and running in the other direction is a good sign, though, so when they're close enough he takes a tentative step forward and bumps their noses together.

"Wow..." Stiles breathes reverently, wiping absentmindedly at his nose when Derek's leaves it feeling cold. While he'd suspected that Derek's new form would be magnificent—it's Derek, so how could it not be?—he never thought he'd be left as awestruck as he is now. Derek's eyes are their alpha red, a constant, seemingly brighter red than they've ever been, and there's an intelligence behind them which clearly tells him that his mate is still there, behind the fangs. He reaches out a hand and places it on top of the wolf's head, right between his pointed ears, and curls his fingers through his fur. It's surprisingly silky and darker than the night sky.

Stiles feels overwhelmed.

It's like he's falling in love all over again.

He smiles softly and moves closer so that their foreheads touch, replacing his hand. "You're beautiful," he says simply, chuckling and flailing away when he feels a rough, wet tongue run up the side of his face. He rolls over on to his back and feigns protests as Derek continues licking him like an overenthusiastic puppy.

"OK, uncle! Uncle!" Stiles gasps when it becomes too much. He rubs at the cooling and drying saliva on his cheek as he pushes gently at Derek with his broken arm, knowing that using it in a capacity like that will immediately get the wolf to back away for fear of his safety. It works, predictably, and the fond smile is back on his lips when Derek noses at his cast with a quiet whine. "Relax, Sourwolf, I'm fine."

Not taking Stiles' word for it, Derek continues his inspection until he comes to that conclusion himself, at which point he lowers himself down until he covers the boy completely with his new body.

"Damn, you're heavy!" Stiles comments.

Derek huffs and refuses to move, perfectly comfortable.

"Is that your tail?"

Picking his head up again, Derek turns to look over his shoulder and feels embarrassment when he sees that his tail is wagging from side to side, a clear sign of his happiness. He tries to stop it but it refuses to cooperate. It's like it has a mind of its own, and that's something he resolves to work on in the future.

Eventually he gives up trying, and he's about to go back to his previous position when his world suddenly tilts and he finds himself lying on his back with Stiles perched over him instead. He stares up at the boy in confusion and is about to wriggle back over and onto his feet when his eyes roll back in his head, a wonderful sensation overtaking him. Faintly, he hears giggling but can't be bothered to stop himself as his eyes close and his mouth opens lazily, long tongue hanging out the side as he pants in pleasure.

"Now I can give you _real_ belly rubs... Yeah, you like that, don't cha, you big strong alpha, you?" Stiles croons, using his able hand to rub up and down across Derek's belly and barrel chest, adding in the occasional scratch of his short nails. He's a little shocked that Derek is allowing him to do this but is grateful for it nevertheless. The way the wolf's front paws are curled up in the air is particularly adorable.

After a while, though, the muscles of his arm start to ache and he has to stop.

Derek is disappointed and whines for more.

Stiles gives the wolf one last rub before sitting back on his heels. "Sorry, big guy, but that's all I can do for now," he says sadly, rotating his shoulder and grunting as the movement stretches his muscles.

Since he won't be getting any more belly rubs for the time being, Derek flips himself over onto his front like he was trying to do before Stiles interrupted him and thinks about changing back to human. He's just closing his eyes and trying to get his wolf to recede when he feels a finger tap him a couple of times on the end of his nose, so he opens them again and stares up at his mate impatiently. He sits back on his haunches and tilts his head to the side—it's such a puppy-like move, one he's seen time and again from his betas, and he's a little mortified that he's started doing it now, too—as he watches Stiles begin to get undressed, confused. When the boy gets onto the bed and pats the mattress next to him he still doesn't know what to make of it, but because he can't exactly open his mouth and ask what's going on just yet, he simply hops up where Stiles wants him and waits for the teen's next move. The sheets are pulled out from under the both of them as Stiles shuffles a little further down the bed, and a second later his mate is pushing him gently over on to his side so that he's lying down, too, and the sheets come down over them. He thinks he hears something about it being nap time.

Derek just goes with it as Stiles pulls him closer and tucks his face into the fur of his long neck, releasing a contented murmur that sounds suspiciously like, "Snuggly wolf..." followed by a quiet snore. Huffing, Derek curls himself around his mate's sleeping form as best he can and closes his own eyes.

* * *

_\- Saturday, December 15th, 2012 -_

It's been two and a half months since Derek killed Elizabeth and Holly, and Charlie left.

When he wakes up early, Stiles lies in bed for over an hour and just watches Derek sleep on peacefully next to him, letting his mind wander back over the past four months. He finds it hard to believe that so much time has already passed. To him, it seems like it's only been a couple of weeks at most, and he's only just beginning to let it sink in and process it all. He's been kept busy with school, and he almost allowed himself to slip into the fantasy that his life is normal. Only the staring he got from the other students reminded him that it was all real.

Everyone was curious about the nasty-looking cut on his head and the cast on his arm, but luckily they were appeased with the simple excuse that his clumsiness once again got the better of him. He has a new Chemistry teacher, one who is thankfully much nicer than Ms. Adler and doesn't pick on anyone.

It's refreshing.

The novelty of his injuries wore off after a while, much to his relief, and he was able to walk the halls with his pack without anyone paying him any more attention that usual.

The day after Charlie left, at around one o'clock in the afternoon, Deaton had stopped by the house unexpectedly to explain a few things. When Scott got him out of Elizabeth's basement and told him everything that had happened and all they'd found out from the woman herself, he came to some conclusions. Of course, in typical Deaton fashion, from the start he knew more than he let on, not about Elizabeth's true intentions but about what was happening with Stiles' magic and Derek's often restless wolf. Because of their mating bond, as Stiles' powers grew in strength, Derek's wolf was given some of that power, too, and as it grew stronger it got more excited for what it knew was to come. This was why, every so often, Derek would feel so keyed up that he wouldn't be able to sleep. Deaton informed them that eventually Derek's wolf would have been able to reach its full potential and give him the ability to shift into a proper wolf all on its own, but because Stiles lent him all of his magic the process was sped along to its end, making him one of the most powerful alphas in the United States. He's even stronger than his mother had been, at least according to Deaton.

Derek didn't know how to take this information, so he stayed silent.

After that, Deaton had left again.

Like Derek thought it would be, the new living room was easy to sort out. He took Stiles on another trip to Ikea—making sure to leave Lydia out of it this time—and gave him free reign to choose whatever furniture he wanted. His only stipulation was that he not choose any garish colours. They ended up with a large chocolate brown L-shaped sofa, a couple of matching arm chairs, and an old-looking dark wood coffee table. On the way home after setting it all up to be delivered the next morning, they stopped off at the local electronics store and got a brand-new flatscreen television, complete with surround sound speakers, and a Blu-ray player to keep Stiles happy—"High def is the only way to go, Sourwolf, and you know it."

To prep for the delivery, as soon as they arrived back home Derek did some research and started preparing the hardwood floors, stripping and buffing and waxing them so that they were all smooth and nice. Stiles was highly amused by the sight of his wolf using a floor buffer.

After that, they waited for the wax to dry and, the next day, when Derek determined that the floor was ready, he got Jackson and Boyd over to the house to help him assemble the new furniture.

Both he and Stiles actually prefer the new room to how it looked before it got burned up.

Things have settled back down to a good place now, Stiles thinks, and he's happy with where his life is. Like she promised, Charlie has been emailing him every week without fail, giving him updates on how she's doing up in Canada. It took her a while but he's under the impression now that she's comfortable there, especially without the toxic influence of her mother. He's happy for her, too.

He always writes back as soon as he can. They've shared some laughs whenever he's updated her on things that have happened around town or to the pack, like something stupid Jackson has said or done or the time when he walked in on Scott, Allison and Kira while they were in the middle of having sex. He shudders as the image worms its way into his brain again. They were such close friends for years that he's unfortunately seen Scott's junk more than once in the past, but each time is no less horrifying than the last.

All three of them had been incredibly apologetic after the fact—Allison had never turned such a deep shade of red—and Stiles begged them to lock the door next time so that it doesn't happen again.

Charlie got a real kick out of that one.

As far as Stiles knows, Charlie has also been keeping in touch with Cora. The youngest Hale left her phone on the coffee table one evening, and he saw the screen light up while he was watching something on the new television. He couldn't resist glancing down at it and smiling at what he read.

Cora refused to say anything about it when he brought it up casually a few minutes later, after she'd reentered the room with a fresh glass of grape juice in hand. In fact, she'd snapped up her phone and stormed off to her bedroom, yelling at him over her shoulder and suggesting that he keep his nose out of other people's business. Whatever the two girls were talking about must have been something quite private to get that sort of reaction, so Stiles let Cora go without a reply, the smile still firmly on his lips. He and Derek had been beginning to worry that Cora spent too much time on her own, and the find assuaged those worries.

Stiles is brought out of his remembrances when Derek stirs next to him.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he greets when hazel eyes blink open to look blearily into his own.

Derek grunts out a similar sentiment before burying his face in his pillow.

"Aww, is someone tired?"

"Shut up..." comes Derek's gruff reply, muffled by his pillow. He groans quietly before rolling over on to his back and rubbing at his eyes with his left hand, trying to keep his mind alert so he doesn't accidentally slip back into unconsciousness. It's easier said than done, but luckily he has Stiles there to keep him occupied. "What time is it?" he asks, tucking his hand beneath his head when he finishes with it.

Glancing to his right at the clock on his nightstand, Stiles announces that it's just gone eight in the morning, something that is evidenced by the sun outside of the window. It's still low in the sky, illuminating the room to a substantial degree but still keeping things dim enough that he doesn't feel bad about staying in bed.

Returning his attention to his mate, Stiles is unable to resist such an inviting sight and snuggles right up to Derek's side without another word. Their legs tangle together automatically, and he hums contentedly when one of Derek's feet begins stroking back and forth across one of his. "Did we have anything planned for today? I can't remember..." he asks, concentrating on the sound of Derek's heart beating away just under his ear. It's soothing, and that combined with the smell of the man threatens to lull him under again.

"Not that I know of," Derek replies, turning his head to the side and pressing his lips to Stiles' forehead. "I have some work to catch up on, but it won't take all day, not even close."

"Mmm, think of the snuggling possibilities..." Stiles chuckles.

"If you're lucky."

Stiles snorts.

They stay lying exactly as they are for what seems like hours, and every now and then they'll talk quietly about whatever topic comes to either of their minds. For the most part, though, no words are exchanged. It's just two mates spending time together, so comfortable in each other's company that nothing needs to be said. Eventually, Derek does find his mind drifting, getting bored and a little restless. He doesn't want to leave the bed just yet but knows that he needs to channel this energy into something or else it'll just keep building. The perfect solution comes to him and, without warning, he rolls to his right so that Stiles ends up on his back instead and he is positioned between the boy's spread legs, hovering above him. He preempts all the questions he knows Stiles will ask by kissing him deeply, sliding his tongue between parted lips and rolling his hips down so that their rapidly hardening cocks rub together. The plan is to partake in some lazy morning sex, spending as much time as he pleases taking Stiles apart and putting him back together over and over again until something else gets in the way, whether that ends up being a full bladder or a rumbling stomach.

Unfortunately, things never heat up more than that. Just as Derek is reaching blindly for the topmost drawer in Stiles' bedside table to get the lube they keep there, intent on opening Stiles up and making him come on his fingers alone, they're brought out of the moment when the boy's phone blares loudly.

"Ignore it..." Derek whispers against Stiles' lips.

The phone mercifully stops ringing, and he just gets his hand around the lube when it starts up again. He groans in frustration and rolls back over to his side of the bed when Stiles pushes gently at his chest, throwing an arm over his eyes and preparing to sulk petulantly at having his perfect plan for the morning ruined. Still, he listens closely to the conversation Stiles has with the voice on the other end of the line.

"Stiles, where the fuck are you?!"

Stiles has to hold his phone away from his ear because Lydia's voice is so loud.

"It's already half nine! Did you forget we made plans as a pack to go shopping or what? We've been waiting for you and Derek for over half an hour now, so get your ass out of bed and meet us or else!"

After that, the call goes dead and Stiles is left staring down at the dark screen a little guiltily. Lydia is right: he did completely forget that they all planned on having a huge shopping trip that morning, in which they would all buy their Christmas presents for each other. "Oops..." he says as he drops his phone on to the sheets and flops back down with a groan. "Just when things were getting good, too..." He allows himself another few seconds to lament the orgasms that will never be before flinging the sheets back and getting reluctantly out of bed. The cold hardwood floor shocks him because he's still not used to not having carpet.

If it were up to him he'd stay right where he was and let Derek have his way with him, but he doesn't want to incur Lydia's wrath. He values his and Derek's lives too much for that. The banshee is probably already angry enough with the two of them as it is, so he's quick to get washed, dressed and ready to go.

Derek isn't so swift.

The man lifts his arm and stares down his body at where the sheets are tented at his crotch, sending a silent apology to his hard length as he waits for it to go down again. He doesn't move until it does, even though it's just him and Stiles in the room. Said boy rolls his eyes at him before leaving, and it's the boy's whispered words of Lydia potentially cutting off his balls as punishment that finally gets him up.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, they're at the mall.

Derek pulls up the parking brake and shuts off the engine of his Camaro. He's thankfully managed to find a parking space near the front of the lot, and he can already see Lydia glaring daggers at him from where she stands on the pavement a short distance away. Bracing himself for whatever harsh words the girl will no doubt spit at him as soon as he's close enough, he opens his door and steps out, pretending to right his leather jacket on his shoulders while he waits for Stiles to do the same.

If Stiles or anyone else suspects that the real reason he waited was because he didn't want to face Lydia alone, then he's glad that they stay silent on the subject when the distance between them is closed.

As far as he's seen, Stiles is the only one in the entire pack who stands a chance of calming her down whenever she gets worked up. Not even Jackson is qualified, though really he's more likely to be the one who riled her up in the first place. Sure enough, as soon as he and Stiles are a few paces away, Lydia is on them like a woman scorned, though she doesn't lay into him as much as he was expecting.

"What the hell took you guys so long?!" she demands with her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, seriously, we've been waiting forever..." Cora adds.

The others nod their agreement.

"Sorry, guys. We got up late," Stiles excuses, morphing his expression into something sympathetic as he rubs at the back of his neck in feigned shame. Lydia narrows her eyes at him like she's searching for the truth, and he waits on bated breath for whatever she says next, good or bad.

"Ugh, fine! Let's do this. _Finally_." She starts marching off toward the entrance of the mall and looks back over her shoulder at Derek with the last pointed word. The pack stays close behind her, letting her lead the way through the throngs of other people milling about the large complex until they get to the food court. "OK, let's split up into groups. I say couples sounds like a a good plan—Cora, you can go with Erica and Boyd—and let's meet back up here in two hours' time for lunch. Agreed?" She doesn't pause for an answer. "Good." Curling her hand around Jackson's elbow, she drags the beta off without another word.

A few seconds later, everyone else breaks off in their designated groups, though in a less frantic fashion than Lydia and Jackson, leaving Derek and Stiles standing alone in a sea of strangers.

Derek doesn't have the first clue about where to start buying gifts for everyone, but before he can start to panic, something distracts him. The smell of all the foods in the area make him salivate, reminding him that he didn't have anything to eat before leaving the house earlier, and a quick glance tells him that Stiles seems interested in getting some nourishment as well. "C'mon, let's get something to eat before we start shopping for gifts," he suggests. "If I'm going to get through this then I need some food."

He selflessly lets Stiles choose what they'll have.

Stiles gets in line in front of an independent stall that's right in the middle of the area.

"Perfect," Derek approves as he reads the small menu.

Stiles smirks.

After their stomachs are filled—a greasy cheeseburger each, or in Derek's case, three—they start meandering through the mall, glancing at all of the storefronts they pass to see if anything interesting could be held within, just waiting for their money. They end up circling around the whole complex a couple of times before actually venturing into any of them and, when they do, Stiles has to help Derek with his choices to such a degree that he just takes over completely, leaving Derek to stand around like an idiot, twiddling his thumbs and trying to look as innocuous as possible. After a particularly pricey ten minutes spent in the GameStop, they come out with the last gifts they have to buy, not counting the ones for each other. Stiles ended up picking out a couple of games for each of the other boys, apart from Boyd since the quiet beta doesn't really play video games. Derek carries the majority of the bags, once again taking the opportunity to display just how strong he is, whereas Stiles only carries a couple in his right hand. He'd tried to carry more than that, but Derek refused to let him, stating that it would put undue strain on his ribs.

The fact that his ribs have been unbound and perfectly fine for over a month now doesn't seem to factor into Derek's reasoning at all, so Stiles just leaves the man to it. It's also a plus that, since he's carrying so much, Derek had complained of getting too hot and given his jacket to Stiles to wear instead, and Stiles definitely enjoys surreptitiously drooling over the way the man's biceps bulge as he carries most of the bags.

When they have just half an hour remaining before they have to meet up with the others, Derek suggests they split off to try and select each other's gifts, knowing that he'll need every second of that time.

He's panicking already.

Stiles agrees and hands over his bags when Derek asks for them.

Waiting until Stiles is out of sight first, Derek sets off for his car. He dumps all of the presents in the backseat and covers them with the blanket he'd used to shield the leather from any bodily fluids when he and Stiles made love there about three and a half months ago. _Time flies_ , he thinks.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Derek is getting desperate. Not even after a third trip round the entire mall has he found anything he thinks Stiles would love. He really wants his mate to _love_ his gift, not just like it, wants to find the perfect one, so with just ten minutes left until he's supposed to meet up with all of the others he's at his wits' end. Just as he's considering caving in and tracking down Lydia to ask for help, an idea hits him. It's one he's had in passing before, quite recently in fact, but he didn't think the timing ever felt right.

He's definitely reconsidering that grievous misstep in judgement now. Quickly, he rushes toward the store by which he stands and enters, the bell above the door jingling as he does so. All of the glass cases are a bit disconcerting, so he goes right up to the jeweller to cut to the chase, unaware that they have an audience.

* * *

Lydia doesn't know what Derek is doing.

She split off from Jackson after getting tired of all of his whining and happened upon Derek, who looked lost and like he was about to either cry or shift out of frustration.

Before she could approach the man and offer a solution to whatever problem he's experiencing—because she has all the answers, of course—he darted forward into a shop she never would've thought he'd dare set foot in: the jewellery store. It was the same one from which Stiles bought both of Derek's triskelion necklaces, and the realisation ramped her curiosity up even more.

Following the man, she slipped in after him as carefully as she could manage and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Derek was too caught up in his discussion with the jeweller to notice her scent mingling with all the others in the cramped room. Now, she stands off to the side and pretends to casually peruse all of the glass cases while edging ever closer to Derek and the jeweller, trying to listen in on what's being said. She prays that she's not discovered before whatever the two men are talking about is resolved and smiles to herself when she's able to get close enough to hear every word without being spotted.

* * *

After all of the details are ironed out, Derek feels pretty proud of himself.

That feeling lasts all of two seconds before he comes face-to-face with Lydia, who stares at him with a knowing smirk on her lips. "How much did you hear?" he asks warily, hoping that he'll be able to keep his secret from everybody until he's ready but knowing from the girl's expression that it's pointless.

"So...that's what you're getting Stiles, huh?" Lydia asks, smirk turning into a proper grin. She tails Derek when he walks right past her without replying, not letting up on her pestering until he does.

It takes nearly the full walk back to the food court for Derek to relent, and he turns around and growls at Lydia with a scowl so deep that it stops even her in her footsteps. "Yes! That's what I'm getting Stiles, and I don't want you or anyone else saying word to him about it before I do!" he commands, his eyes flashing—dangerous considering they're in public—before he storms off again in the direction of the food court.

Lydia is quick to get over her shock, smile creeping back on her red lips.

"There you are!" Jackson says, annoyed, when Derek appears with Lydia trailing along behind.

"Where've you been? We've all been waiting for like, five minutes," Stiles asks, his pleasant tone a clear indicator that he doesn't actually mind his mate's lateness. It would be hypocritical of him, after all, because he's sometimes terrible at showing up to things on time, too. He hides behind his back the single bag he holds, which contains Derek's Christmas present, and when he looks down at the wolf's hands out of curiosity, a frown appears on his face when he can't see any bags on his person. "Where'd all the stuff go?"

"In the car," Derek replies.

Nodding his understanding, Stiles links their arms together happily.

"Alright, now that we're all here, let's get going to lunch!" Lydia commands, turning on her heel and beginning to walk away, toward the mall exit. She doesn't want to eat anything from there.

When they all get outside, Stiles hears her running through a list of options for the others to choose from and knows he has to speak up before he gets dragged along into it. "Actually..." he interrupts, keeping Derek firmly by his side as the gap between them and the rest of the pack gets larger. Lydia pauses and looks back at him impatiently. "We're gonna sit this one out, so... If you'll excuse us, I'm gonna go do what I was planning on doing before you called me and suck Derek's brains out through his dick. C'ya!"

Without another word he drags a dumbfounded Derek with him toward the Camaro.

"Get it, Stiles!" Isaac shouts after them.

Stiles throws back a wink.

* * *

_\- Monday, December 17th, 2012 -_

Stiles knows something strange is going on. He doesn't have any idea just what that strange thing is, but he knows all the same. The day started out perfectly normal—with Derek indulging in one of his matutinal workouts as he was leaving the house—but it quickly devolved into the weirdest time he's had at school, at least when there haven't been lives on the line. Every time they're near each other, he keeps seeing Lydia and Erica with their heads bent together as they giggle away, and every now and then they'll shoot him a sideways glance that's always full of excitement. At first he tries to ignore it and stops by the boys' bathroom at the start of lunch to check himself over in the mirror, just in case the reason for the staring is that he has a piece of his breakfast on his face or something, but no. He looks perfectly normal—the fact that his definition of 'normal' now includes constant hickies on his neck isn't missed by him, but Lydia and Erica already know full well who they're from so that can't be the reason for their continuous giggling. Naturally, every time he asks, they refuse to let him in on what has them so chipper, leaving him annoyed and frustrated, and it just gets worse as the day goes on when others in the pack start acting strangely, too:

Isaac keeps shooting him knowing smirks; Boyd, even though he still doesn't speak much, does seem to look in his direction more than usual; Scott is actually able to tear his attention away from Allison and Kira in order to speak more than a couple of words to him; Cora keeps eyeing him speculatively, though unlike the other girls and Isaac she doesn't smile once—she looks like she's thinking hard.

Even Jackson doesn't seem like he's going out of his way to ignore him.

He knows there's no use in continuing to ask them what's going on, though, so he just sits and stews in silence, picking at his lunch with disinterest and trying to act like it doesn't bother him.

* * *

The mystery only gets more mysterious when Stiles returns home later that afternoon. Getting away from the pack and their relentless staring is a definite relief, so when he exits his car and walks through the front door to find Derek sitting on the middle of the sofa in living room, he's ready to forget about it.

"Hey, Der," he greets as he enters the room. As soon as he speaks Derek jumps up from his seat and turns to look at him with his hands held conspicuously behind his back. The man's face is impassive, but Stiles knows his mate enough to see that it's a little _too_ impassive, meaning that he's overcompensating for some other emotion he doesn't want showing. He eyes Derek suspiciously as he walks around the sofa and frowns when Derek turns with each of his steps so that they're always facing each other. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" Derek counters, forcing an affable smile onto his lips.

It doesn't quite reach his eyes.

They remain a little tight at the corners, and Stiles is all of a sudden officially, one-hundred percent _done_ with everybody's shit. He takes a deep breath before letting loose. "OK, seriously, what the fuck is going on today?!" he yells angrily, wanting answers that he's determined to get. The way Derek's eyes start to look like a kicked puppy's as he takes a step back doesn't stop him. "First I get to school and Lydia and Erica are acting all giddy and looking at me like I'm the most interesting thing they've seen all year, and then everyone else starts joining in, all the while refusing to tell me just what's so funny. And now you're acting squirrelly, too. Tell me what's going on. Now." His tone brooks no argument.

"Stiles, really...there's nothing going on," Derek says carefully, his hand tightening protectively around the object he still has hidden behind his back. "Please, I want you to calm down."

Far from it, Stiles looks like he's fast becoming apoplectic. "That's it, I'm done!" He throws up his hands in defeat before turning and storming away to brood on his own. Once he's up in the solitude of his and Derek's bedroom he slams the door pointedly as a sign to Derek that he shouldn't try to follow.

Derek is left downstairs, staring at a tiny velvet box.

* * *

A couple of hours later, after Stiles has had a chance to calm down, he feels terrible for losing it like he did. As annoying as he found Derek's denial that anything was going on, he knows the man didn't deserve that, and so he leaves the bedroom again and goes back downstairs with the intention of apologising. He finds his wolf in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove, on top of which is a saucepan of cooking spaghetti.

When Derek doesn't turn around to look at him, Stiles steps up to the man and hugs him from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso and rubbing his cheek between his shoulder blades. "I'm sorry," he whispers, closing his eyes when Derek's free hand covers his. "At school, everyone was acting like they knew some big secret that they refused to let me in on and it annoyed me, so when I came home and it seemed like you were doing it, too, that was kind of the last straw. It's no excuse, though. You didn't deserve that."

Sighing, Derek drops his wooden spoon into the saucepan and turns in Stiles' arms. "It's OK," he accepts, smiling gently as he returns the hug. He bumps their noses together and mumbles, "I understand," against Stiles' lips before connecting them in a brief kiss.

"Thanks..." Stiles breathes, affected even though the kiss was short.

"No problem, love."

After he's let go, Stiles gets some juice and decides to hang around and keep his mate company.

"I don't want to ruin the surprise, so I can't tell you exactly what it is just yet," Derek speaks up after a minute, not looking away from the spaghetti swirling around in the simmering water in front of him, "but I _will_ tell you that it involves my Christmas present to you, which Lydia saw me buying. I guess she's told everyone what it is already and that's what they were all talking about behind your back. I'm sure they didn't mean any harm by it. They're just excited."

"Now you've piqued my interest," Stiles teases, growing excited himself. If whatever Derek has got him is good enough to get that reaction from everyone else, he can't wait to see what it is.

* * *

_\- Tuesday, December 25th, 2012 -_

Christmas Day promises to be an exciting affair.

Stiles and Derek both know that after they're finished spending the appropriate amount of time with their own families, each member of the pack will be coming over to the house later to spend time with each other, exchange gifts and tuck in to a late dinner, prepared with love by Stiles—he's never made one before but he watched his mother do it enough as a child that he thinks he can pull it off. Because of this knowledge, the two mates make the most out of their usual morning cuddles before leaving the warmth of their bed and each other's arms. It's bound to be an enervating day, especially for Stiles because he'll be cooking for most of it, and to alleviate some of that he plans on roping in a couple of helpers from the unsuspecting betas.

"Bathroom's free," Stiles says as he exits said room.

"Thanks," Derek replies.

When he gets downstairs, as he has done each morning since it was erected, Stiles takes a moment to admire the large clinquant tree that stands in the corner of the living room. Derek pulled out all the stops to make the day as amazing as possible in hopes of compensating for his father's absence, so even without the lights on it's breathtaking to look at.

The image is completed by the piles upon piles of wrapped presents that are beneath it. Having twelve members in the pack takes up a lot of space, especially when each one has gotten something for every other member, and in some cases they got more than one thing—with Lydia's severe case of oniomania, there's no guessing how many she will have bought everyone. The paper used varies from person to person so it's pretty easy to tell who each gift is from, and Scott's are all so horrendously wrapped that they stick out like sore thumbs. In total, there must be well over a hundred boxes and parcels of varying sizes stacked on top of each other, and Stiles is thankful that most of them are small.

He doesn't think there'd be enough room otherwise.

The whole house is decorated to a degree that most people would probably call too much, but to Stiles it feels perfect. He's always been a massive fan of the holiday and he's missed being able to celebrate it like this. In the years after his mother's death, the occasion took on a different feeling and his dad never felt like doing anything big during the build-up or on the day itself. Stiles didn't mind at first because he felt the same, but as the years passed he found himself longing for the festive cheer he remembered from his childhood.

For the past three or four years Melissa has invited him to spend the second half of the day with her and Scott, invitations he gladly accepted once he ran them past his dad, but it obviously wasn't the same.

Still, he loves Melissa for trying.

It's wonderful to know he's going to reclaim that feeling this year, with the help of his mate and their pack. In fact, because it's looking overcast outside he switches on all of the lights already, wanting to bask in their colour and brightness all day. Each member of the pack has a red stocking hung up along the fireplace. They all have their respective names embroidered across the white part at the top, and they're filled with small treats like everybody's favourite chocolate bars or small, inexpensive gifts like the new bookmark Stiles got for Derek—he noticed that the old one was becoming bent up and dirty, so when he came across one with a black wolf on it that reminded him of the man's new form, he had to get it for the bibliophile. Lights are stuck to the insides of all the windows, matching the ones that are hung up around the walls, close to the ceiling. On the wall with the fireplace there are long strands of white lights that fall down its entire length like a bead curtain, each one about five centimetres apart from the last. Tinsel is wrapped around the rails of the staircase in the foyer and a large Christmas wreath is hung on the outside of the front door. Otherwise, the facade of the house still looks fairly plain but Stiles actually quite likes that. It makes the surprise of everything within that much more impactful.

Before he leaves the living room to start preparing all of the ingredients for dinner, Stiles switches on the stereo system that's stuffed in the middle of one of the bookcases—which is piled full of CDs instead of books—and puts on some quiet Christmas music that will serve as the soundtrack for most of the day.

Derek comes downstairs then, refreshed, hair still damp from his shower.

"Hey, Sourwolf," Stiles says.

"Hey, love," Derek responds, intercepting the teen on his way to the kitchen and stealing a kiss.

"Kick your feet up and relax, 'K? You deserve it."

More than happy to do just that, Derek sits down on the side of the sofa that faces the kitchen so he can keep an eye on Stiles and pulls out the book he's currently reading— _What the Night Knows_ by Dean Koontz. He quickly gets absorbed back into the story and time passes by without him knowing it until it's just gone noon and he hears the front door bang open, snapping him back to reality. He looks back over his shoulder and sees that the rest of the pack has started arriving. Scott, Allison, Kira, Isaac and Danny walk through the door, each of them hanging their coats up in the foyer because it's much warmer in the house than it is outside.

"Yo, Derek!" Scott greets as he comes through to the living room with Allison and Kira following. Ignoring the glare Derek gives him in return, he throws himself down on the sofa and bounces in place a couple of times because he's not exactly gentle. He only looks back over at the alpha when he hears quiet growling coming from his direction. "Dude, what's with you?"

"You could be a little more careful when sitting down," Derek suggests, his tone making it clear that it's not actually a suggestion. "If you end up breaking the couch with your carelessness, I'll wring your neck."

Scott gapes in shock.

At the commotion, Stiles rushes back into the room to stop it.

He brandishes a turkey baster threateningly, waving it back and forth between Derek and Scott. The move is made ineffective by the frilly apron he currently sports, but the two wolves both stop bickering anyway. "Now, now, there will be no fighting in this house today!" he asserts, putting his hands on his hips. "It's a happy day, remember? So get along or there'll be no turkey for either of you!" He smiles when Derek huffs and turns back to his book and Scott looks so worried about missing out on food that he clamps his mouth shut.

Before he returns to the kitchen, Stiles gestures for Isaac and Danny to follow him and, when they're all in the other room, hands them each their own apron. "Alright, you're now my handy little helpers today. Congratulations!" he chirps happily before giving them various tasks to do.

The next couple of hours pass in a similar fashion, with Stiles and the two betas remaining in the kitchen and Derek trying to read without getting distracted by all of the animated talking and play fighting that goes on around him. Everyone else arrived about half an hour after his and Scott's little spat, and now they all crowd up the living room and make it a little stuffy.

He doesn't really mind.

It feels like home, reminding him of what Christmas used to be like when he was a kid.

At just after four in the afternoon, Stiles, Isaac and Danny come back into the living room, sans aprons, and the human boy claps his hands excitedly to get everyone else's attention.

"Alrighty, ladies and gentleman, I think it's about time we try to tackle that enormous pile of presents, wouldn't you agree?" he asks, chuckling when everyone starts to pay proper attention. He has to step over several pairs of legs to get close to the tree, and when he's there he sits crosslegged beside it and starts picking each present up one by one before handing them off to their recipients. They go in waves, where he makes sure each member of the pack has one or two presents to open at a time, and then the process is repeated. It takes some time, and as soon as the last round is done he frowns when he realises he hasn't had anything from Derek.

He's apparently not the only person to notice.

Lydia speaks up before Stiles can: "Hey, Derek? Where's your present for Stiles?" she asks loudly, anticipation tightening her immaculately made-up features. The rest of the pack look between the three like they're watching some weird three-sided game of tennis.

Derek narrows his eyes at the banshee and keeps his mouth shut.

Stiles doesn't have a clue what's going on.

"I was waiting until we had less of an audience," the alpha eventually says.

Everyone looks disappointed.

This only serves to confuse Stiles even further but he shakes the feeling off. It's easy for him to figure out that Derek must be nervous about whatever it is he has to give, so he understands why the man wants them to be alone when he does it. To get everyone off the topic and save Derek any more discomfort, he stands quickly and, after checking the time on his phone, demands that they go out into the back garden to play a huge game of dodgeball or something. Like he hoped it would, this seems to wipe the previous topic of conversation from Lydia and the betas' minds, and they all immediately leap to their own feet and rush outside to pick teams. Lydia doesn't look that enthusiastic about participating—Stiles supposes that it's her expensive-looking shoes that are stopping her—but she nevertheless agrees to do so after Erica and Jackson drag her with them. Stiles and Derek are left by themselves in the living room, and the boy returns the grateful smile the alpha gives him. "Don't worry about it, Der," he says, stepping closer and bumping their shoulders together. "I'm sure I'll love whatever you got me." Derek looks reassured, so he feels comfortable getting off the topic himself.

He puts his phone down on the coffee table so it doesn't get damaged in the game, takes Derek's hand, and pulls him along to join the others outside. _This is gonna be fun_ , he thinks.

* * *

Several hours later, after the game is over and everyone is showered and clean again, they settle down around the huge dining table for a late dinner. With Derek's help, Stiles was able to decimate the opposition, much to both of their pleasures. The other teams didn't stand a chance, and their losses were egregious. Stiles, with Derek's help, takes care to carefully load the table with all of the food before sitting down himself.

"OK, everyone dig in!" he shouts above the noise of conversation.

Dinner is a boisterous affair, with everyone talking animatedly, especially the betas. If Stiles thought that the games they played earlier would wear them out then he's definitely proven wrong now. He and Derek are markedly more subdued, but it's not really from tiredness. Sure, he does feel a little lethargic after two hours of near continuous exercise, but he's quieter than the others because he just wants to sit back and take it all in. His wolf is of a similar mind, and they smile at each other as they listen in on all the funny or silly things the betas come out with. Scott is of course the worst offender, but they didn't expect any different.

Slowly, things wind down. All of the food is consumed until everyone is patting their rounded stomachs with contented smiles on their faces, even Lydia. Dessert goes over well, too, and for himself and Derek, Stiles just manages to get a slice of the cappuccino cheesecake he made before one of the betas snags it.

"A bit untraditional, don't you think?" Derek comments offhandedly.

"True, but no one seems to mind," Stiles replies smugly.

"It is nice, I'll give you that."

Derek dutifully finishes off the rest of their slice when Stiles concludes that he couldn't possibly eat another bite without bursting. Once everyone else has finished and migrated back into the living room, he helps Stiles with all the washing up. There are a lot of dishes to get through, a daunting amount, but they manage with patience. After that's done, they join the others and settle in to watch some Christmas movies. Everyone has something different they want to put on, so Stiles dictates that everyone puts forth one title and then they'll all vote on what they want from the resulting list.

* * *

It's closing in on nine o'clock in the evening when the festivities start to wind down.

Everyone leaves eventually to sleep off all the food they ate in their own beds, everyone but Isaac, who has fallen asleep on the sofa. Stiles and Derek are both loath to wake the beta, so he's left where he is after Stiles drapes a blanket over him affectionately. "God, today was amazing..." he says over a cup of tea in the kitchen. He's a little sad that it's basically over already, but he's glad to have had it.

"It's not over just yet," Derek announces, putting down his own mug and taking Stiles' to do the same. His hands shake from nerves. "I think it's time I give you your present..."

Stiles perks up immediately, his excitement sufficiently rekindled. "Ooh, colour me curious!" he grins, letting Derek take his hand and pull him down the hall and into their study without a protest. He glances around the room, looking for any signs that'll let him know just what his present is, but there are no signs to be found. _Maybe it's not actually a physical object_ , he thinks as his curiosity intensifies tenfold. Taking a seat in one of the armchairs that are positioned in front of the desk when Derek asks him to, he sits forward in anticipation when the man moves the matching chair closer and sits down on the edge of the cushion.

"This is going to be hard, so please don't say anything until I get it all out, OK?" Derek warns.

The human boy nods obligingly.

"OK, so...when we met, I was lost," Derek reminisces, speaking words he's agonised over for the past two weeks as he tried to find the best possible way to say them. "I had pretty much no family left and I didn't know what to do with myself, whether I would even try to go on at all. Then you came into my life, this annoying, hyperactive, too-smart-for-his-own-good teenager, and again I didn't know what to do, but for a different reason. You helped me figure out what happened to Laura and you've helped me through everything since, even when I was a total asshole to you and everyone else. We grew closer and formed a pack together, even if we weren't _together_ in the romantic sense just yet. Then we got our shit together and told each other how we felt and became mates, and I was so damn happy. We got the pack back from Landon, and it felt like I had a family again." He swallows tightly. "There's just one problem: Only the pack and those affiliated with it know it, know that we belong to each other. That's not enough for me. I want _everyone_ to know that I'm yours and you're mine. The others are important, but you're the most important person in my life. This house, the car, the job, this town...none of that matters to me. The only thing I need is you because, when I'm with you, I'm home."

Stiles feels like he's going to faint. He hasn't taken a breath in what must be at least half a minute because he's too busy hanging on every word that comes out of Derek's mouth. Disbelief fills him, and he swears he must be reading the situation wrong because there's no way Derek is doing what he thinks he's doing.

Taking a deep breath, Derek leaves his seat.

He sinks down on one knee and pulls out a small black box.

He opens his mouth.

"Stiles... Will you marry me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that's the end of this part! Aren't I mean for ending it there?
> 
> Never fear, though—there is a third part in the works, but it won't start for a few months. I need to take a short break from this series so I don't get burned out on it and so I can fully flesh out the new story. I don't want it to become overlong like I feel this one started to. (It was padded out with a lot of porn, though, so I hope you didn't mind that too much.) XD In the mean time, I'll be starting something new that's completely unrelated to this series (it's still Sterek, though) so **make sure you're subscribed to me** so you're notified when it starts being posted! (Hint: it starts next Thursday, 17th March.) I have two different fics planned, one short and fluffy (five chapters), and the other longer (fifteen chapters) and more serious again.
> 
> What did you all think of the ending? I was originally planning on this epilogue being similar to the one in the first part (a few more loose ends tied up at the start and the rest of it comprising solely of smut) but after the idea for the proposal came to me I changed my mind and wrote this. The smut I had planned will come in the third part instead.
> 
> I want to say thank you to everyone who has stuck with me on this journey so far. I've enjoyed it immensely and I'm very grateful for all the praise and compliments I've received. I hope you'll keep reading my stuff as it continues and grows, and I'll try to keep the same level of quality throughout to make it worth it. (I'd say my writing style changed and gotten better since I started this series, so who knows? Maybe I'll continue to improve.)
> 
> Thank you again.


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